Shadows of Truth
by Hera Night
Summary: A VD fanfic featuring Meredith and Damon. When Meredith discovers some disturbing secrets from her grandfather's past, it leads her to Rome where she is forced to team up with the most unlikely of allies.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Don't go home.

The thought crept into Meredith Sulez's mind like a stealthy spider as she turned her car onto Culver Street.

Meredith didn't know why she hesitated to go home. Shouldn't she be ecstatic right now? She had survived a night full of vampires, werewolves and ghosts. Her best friend was back from the dead and peace was restored to the town of Fell's Church. Everything was fine. So why did she have this feeling of foreboding and dread as she neared her house?

Get a grip, Meredith told herself. Her nerves were probably still shaky from last night—or this morning rather. The golden orb of the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, surrounded by the fading rose hue of the sunrise.

It was close to seven in the morning and she was the only person driving in the street. Hopefully, her parents were still asleep so she wouldn't have to explain what she was doing home so early. Bonnie and Meredith had pulled the same trick they always did when they wanted to stay out late without question. They told Meredith's Dad that she was sleeping over at the McCoullough's and Bonnie's Mom that she was sleeping over at the Sulez's. Neat and tidy, no questions asked.

Of course, it wasn't as though they'd spent last night sneaking out to a concert or late-night movie. If their parents had known the real truth of what they'd been up to they would have locked their daughters up in a convent and never let them out. Spending the eve of the summer solstice fighting a psychotic vampire wasn't exactly the most wholesome activity for young ladies.

Meredith stifled a yawn, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her. There really was no logical reason for why she felt she shouldn't go home. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to slip into her bed and pull the covers over her head until she felt human again. Despite the healing powers Elena had used, her body still ached from the scuffle with Tyler. So there was no rationale behind her feelings at all, only a gut instinct that was screaming at her to turn her car around. Don't tell me Bonnie's aptitude for premonitions is catching, Meredith thought, smirking at herself in the rearview mirror.

The smirk died as she saw there was another car in her driveway. Meredith parked alongside the unfamiliar Mercedes and the anxious feeling intensified. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Whatever was waiting for her at home couldn't be that bad; an unexpected visitor didn't necessarily foretell doom and gloom.

Most of the downstairs lights in the house were turned on. She was glad she'd decided to borrow some clothes from Bonnie before heading home. A Mickey Mouse sweatshirt and tights weren't high fashion, but they were comfortable and—most importantly—not soaked in her own blood. Anna would have fainted if she'd seen Meredith immediately after the battle with Klaus. Thankfully Bonnie had also loaned her the use of a shower at her house.

Her father was waiting for her on the front porch as she walked up to the house. "Meredith, I'm glad you're home. I was just going to call Bonnie's." Henry Sulez was rarely an emotional man so it caught Meredith off-guard when he gave her a hug as she ascended the stairs.

"Why?" she asked in alarm. "What's going on? Who's here?"

"Something unfortunate has happened," her father said quietly as they both went inside. "Your grandfather died last night." Henry led his daughter towards the dining room as her tired brain tried to absorb this on top of what she'd already been through within the last twenty-four hours.

"I still don't understand why he was cremated without any of us being notified and so soon." Her stepmother's voice drifted towards her, taught with barely constrained fury. Glancing through the entryway that led from the dining room to the kitchen, Meredith glimpsed a stranger she'd never seen before. He was a tall, distinguished looking man with graying hair and kind eyes; his tailored suit looked expensive and Meredith didn't doubt it was.

"Mr. Forsythe's last request was that his family members remember him as he once was and not to mourn him, especially in his later…condition. He wanted to be cremated as soon as possible without any family members present," the man was explaining to Anna. They were both seated at the kitchen table. He looked up as Meredith and her father entered the room.

"Are you his lawyer?" Meredith asked slowly, trying to make sense of everything. Did my grandfather die when Klaus was destroyed? She wondered in horror. The timing was awfully close for it to be a mere coincidence.

"Yes, I am. My name is George Watkins. Not only was your grandfather my client, but I was also privileged enough to call him my friend. You must be Meredith." Despite the warm smile he gave her, Meredith couldn't help feeling unnerved that someone she'd never met knew who she was.

"I didn't even realize that he had a lawyer," Henry replied absently, his voice thick with grief and shock. His first wife's father had been very good to him in his younger years. He'd loaned him money to start his own business and helped him and Isabel with the down payment on their first house. Much more than just the "dreaded father-in-law", John had been a friend and confidant. It had killed Henry to be the one to send him to the institution since he'd assumed power of attorney over John after Isabel was gone.

"Your father-in-law commissioned me around the time his health began to deteriorate. He came to me and asked that I carry out his wishes if the worst were to happen."

"What exactly were his wishes?" Henry asked, taking a seat beside his wife.

"John wanted me to deliver his few possessions to his family and he also made some financial provisions for Meredith. In fact, if you want to-"

Meredith waved a hand to cut him off. "I'm sorry, I don't want to be rude, but can we talk about his later."

"Oh yes, of course. Forgive me for my thoughtlessness. Here is my card, make an appointment any time you would like. I'm very sorry for your loss. John was a good man." The words were customary, but George spoke them with a sincerity that proved his fondness for Meredith's grandfather. He rose from his chair. "I apologize for ruining your morning, but I figured you should be informed right away. I'll leave you to making your preparations."

Anna sniffed at that. "I'm not sure what we're supposed to prepare for since there's no body," she muttered.

Both men chose not to reply, although George did avert his gaze to the linoleum. "I'll show you out," Henry said.

"Honey, do you need anything?" Anna asked, her anger fading to concern for her stepdaughter. Meredith shook her head, lost in thought. Everything felt so strange and surreal. The whole side of her mother's family was gone now. Her own mother died when she was a baby, her grandmother passed away three years ago, and now her grandfather was gone too. To be honest, she was relived her grandfather had opted for a private cremation. Meredith didn't think her sanity could handle another funeral. She sighed, recalling that she still had to go to Vickie's tomorrow.

"I wish you could remember him like I did, Sweetheart," Henry said upon returning to the kitchen. "He was so strong and loving and he had the kindest smile." Meredith looked at her father, feeling bad for him. His brown eyes were alight with memories. There was no way she would ever tell him that _her_ last memories of her grandfather involved seeing him shrunken and insane.

"What possessions was his lawyer referring to?" Meredith asked, curious despite her utter exhaustion. Glancing around the kitchen, she noticed a medium-sized brown leather trunk. The leather, brass lock, and rivets adorning the trunk were all faded and dull. "Do you mind?" She looked to her father imploringly and he shook his head.

Meredith pulled the trunk up to the table and opened the tarnished lock that had not been secured. Lifting the lid, she observed with a twinge of sadness that her grandfather's possessions had been pitifully few. There was an old army uniform, the medals on them still shining as if they were new, including the Purple Heart. Besides the uniform there was a cigar box full of old photos and his treatment journal. The Hadsforth Institution practiced alternative therapy for patients including art and writing; patients were encouraged to draw or copy down their thoughts and feelings. Flipping through the journal, she saw that most of it was filled with random words and pictures that really didn't look like much of anything.

He certainly seemed fond of using a lot of red, though, Meredith couldn't help noticing.

"He was in World War II you know, a genuine war hero. He fought in Europe. That was where he met your grandmother," Henry told his daughter. She ran her hands over the uniform with its numerous medals and smiled softly.

Meredith reached down and leafed through the photographs. There was one of the family, one of her mother when she was young, even one of her when she was a baby. As she went further the pictures became older, most in black and white. John Forsythe had been a very handsome officer, young and proud, almost regal. Dad was right, he did have a great smile, Meredith thought to herself with a twinge of sorrow. Handing the pictures she'd already gone through to her father for him and Anna to look at, she looked once again in the trunk to see if she had missed anything.

There was one more picture that clung to the side of the trunk, as though it were hiding. Meredith picked it up and froze. It was a war picture. The destruction in the background told the tale: buildings devastated by bombs and gunfire, a road sunken with tank tracks, and spirals of smoke drifting across the sky. In the middle of it all were two men with their arms flung around each other, both smiling wildly despite the devastation surrounding them. The man on the right was her grandfather. The man to the left was tall, lean and fierce looking. Since the picture was in black and white she couldn't see the hair or eye color, but Meredith knew what they were.

She knew that the man on the left had white blonde hair and electric blue eyes. She knew this because the man in the picture looked exactly like Klaus.

Taking deep breaths to keep from panicking, she turned the picture over and saw writing that was faded but still legible.

John,

Throughout my life time there have been few whom I could call a friend. You are among them. I will never forget what you have done for me, I will always be in your debt. Call on me if you are ever in need.

Your Brother in Combat

-K-

The men in the picture were friends, not some random acquaintances forced to share a picture together, but friends, "brothers in combat". The thought made Meredith feel sick. She wanted tear it up, bury it, burn it, do anything to erase evidence that her grandfather had ever known such a monster.

As disgusted as she was with the picture, Meredith couldn't help feeling an urge to study it. Retrieving a magnifying glass from a kitchen drawer, she leaned over the picture. The two men in the picture, one human and one vampire, wore the same uniform; same helmets, same dog tags and, strangely enough, the same ring. Looking closer, Meredith could make out the small bands with some kind of symbol carved in them, set with a stone of some sort. No matter how hard she squinted, however, she couldn't quite make out what the symbol was.

"Dad, do you know who this is with granddad?" It was a question she really didn't want an answer to, but Meredith felt she had to ask, had to know. She handed the picture over to her father and found herself holding her breath as he studied it.

"I really don't know. Not one of your grandfather's friends I ever met. Maybe Mr. Watkins could tell you," Henry replied. Meredith let out her breath in a rush of relief. The last thing she could have handled after everything else that she'd already experienced since last night was her father having some sort of connection to Klaus.

"We should all get some more rest," Anna suggested soothingly. "It's already going to be a long day tomorrow." Henry nodded and started to follow his wife upstairs. He looked back at his daughter before he ascended.

"You should really get some more sleep, Meredith," he advised with paternal authority. "You look worn out. Don't you girls ever get some actual sleep at your sleepovers?"

"Somebody has to talk about boys and clothes," Meredith managed with a teasing smile. "I'll be up in a minute, Dad, no worries."

She was grateful to have a few moments to herself, to attempt to process what she'd just learned. Somehow her grandfather had known Klaus—or at least someone who looked uncannily similar to the deranged vampire. Maybe he hadn't known how much of a monster his "brother in arms" had been. What about the identical rings, though? Usually members of a fraternity or organization of some sort wore similar rings or pendants.

Somehow Meredith seriously doubted—after centuries of immortality—that Klaus had suddenly decided to join up with a frat to drink beer and pick up girls. Whatever he, and her grandfather, had joined up with was something big. How big she couldn't begin to guess, but maybe George Watkins would have an idea.

The instinctual part of her that had warned her about coming home was not pleased with this notion. It wanted her to stuff everything back in the trunk, forget what she'd seen, and simply go to bed. Ordinarily Meredith might have obliged, but her burning sense of curiosity far out weighed her instincts. When it came to other people's business she was happy to simply stay out of it. This was different, however, because it was _her_ business.

Ever since she was little, Meredith had desperately wanted to ask thousands of questions about her grandfather. So many times she'd tried to ask about his life before he went mad, why he went mad, and—most of all—why he'd tried to kill her and her grandmother. Every time she brought her grandfather up, though, her father or grandmother would urge her to hush and be quiet. She learned that what had happened in the past was not to be spoken of. It was forbidden, a secret; even their visits were rarely referred to in conversation.

Now some answers might finally be uncovered.

Meredith put her grandfather's few meager possessions back in the trunk except for the picture she'd discovered. This she tucked in her purse. After Vickie's funeral tomorrow she would go talk to George Watkins. Content with this decision, Meredith went upstairs to bed.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"You guys, I'm gonna miss you so much. No one but us will know that Stefan and Elena really did have a happy ending." Bonnie sniffled, tears running freely down her cheeks.

"Take care," Matt said, shaking hands with Stefan.

"I wish you both nothing but happiness," Meredith said, hugging Elena tightly. Bonnie, Matt, Caroline, and Meredith were gathered at the airport, saying their farewells to the newly reunited couple the following afternoon. It was thirty miles outside of Fell's Church so they felt fairly confident no one would recognize them. Just to be cautious, however, Stefan wore his trademark sunglasses and Elena had her fair hair covered with a scarf.

While they both wanted to stick around longer, Stefan thought it would be best if they left town for awhile. Elena had agreed, recognizing that it would be too painful to try and explain to her family why she was suddenly alive and well again. They would undoubtedly be overjoyed, but there was no valid reason she could give them without revealing Stefan's secret. It might also expose her family to unnecessary danger.

Just because Katherine and Klaus were dead didn't guarantee that Stefan and Elena were by any means safe.

It was still odd to see them together again, looking so peaceful and happy, after the danger they'd faced in the past year. Elena, grateful to the Fates for the second chance she'd been given, glowed with joy and love. While she was forlorn to be saying goodbye to her friends, the sadness quickly slipped away when her lapis lazuli eyes settled upon Stefan. Meredith couldn't begrudge Elena her happiness. After all those two had been through, they were most deserving of a long, un-bumpy, trouble free ride into the sunset.

"Listen, my phone never leaves my purse so you guys can contact us if you need anything," Caroline was saying. Even though she'd spent the last year plotting against Elena, genuine tears filled her emerald green eyes. They'd grown up together after all.

"We'll call you on your cell as soon as we reach London," Elena promised. Linking hands, the happy couple walked down the terminal and waved one final time before disappearing from sight.

"Listen guys, we need to hurry if we're going to make Vickie's funeral," Matt said, glancing at his watch.

"Sounds good. I had to park in level B so I'll meet you there," Meredith said, breaking apart from the group. Walking through the airport, she'd almost made it to the elevators when an extremely good-looking young man caught her attention.

Well he really wasn't young now, was he?

Leaning with his back against a grey-tiled pillar, Damon was reading a newspaper. In profile, Meredith had to admit that he was quite breath-taking. Like a statue carved out of marble, his features were finely chiseled and arresting to behold. Add to that hair like silken ebony and those dark, captivating eyes and he was nothing less than beautiful.

It was just a pity that he knew it.

Stefan was confident in a way that didn't come off as conceited or vain. Perhaps that came from the angst and guilt he felt from his past. Damon, however, had no such hindrances. He radiated confidence in a fashion that came across as pure arrogance. Even after he'd saved all their lives against Klaus, Meredith couldn't bring herself to like him. That didn't stop her from approaching him. He barely looked up from his newspaper even though he had to know she was there.

"What are you doing here?" Meredith demanded.

"Unlike some of my counterparts, I embrace modern technology. I like to fly but the food is sub-par even in first class," Damon said, not bothering to lower the paper.

"That's funny coming from a guy who has an all-liquid diet."

This comment earned her an eyebrow arched in mild interest as Damon folded the newspaper. He fixed his gaze on her, which Meredith decided wasn't necessarily a good thing. There was something unsettling about those obsidian eyes that played with the different colors in the light and seemed able to see right into her. With his Powers, Damon _was_ quite capable of reading her mind, but this knowledge didn't cause Meredith to shy away.

"It's true my appetite is rather particular," he said impassively. "I assume you came to check on me not to inquire about my dietary preferences, but to make sure that I don't disturb my little brother and his fiancé."

"The thought had crossed my mind. From what I understand, you're not above stalking," Meredith said, her tone taking on more of an edge. Elena had been her best friend since the third grade and after all that they had been through, Meredith wasn't about to let anyone mess with her happiness. Not even someone who could easily squash her like a bug.

"Jealous? Not that a girl such as yourself should lack for companions. You know, it's a shame we couldn't get more acquainted. As your charming red-headed friend could tell you, I'm not so bad. You might even find me quite…enjoyable." Damon smiled, finally focusing his full attention on her, his dark eyes raking her head to toe. Meredith couldn't help feeling a little exposed, but as usual she maintained her composure.

"Wow, you know I was a little worried that you'd be obsessing over Elena, but now I see you'll just hit on anything with estrogen. Do us all a favor and stay away from Fell's Church and anyone you ever met there." Meredith began to walk away, but as usual Damon had to have the last word.

"Feel free to look me up if you're ever in Italy. I can show you things you wouldn't believe." Damon's laugh was derisive and mocking. Spinning around, Meredith intended to tell him that he was the last person she'd ever look up in Italy, Europe, or even the Antarctic.

He was already gone.

Well, that's the last I'll ever see of him, Meredith thought with a dismissive shrug as she headed towards the parking lot. At least Damon didn't appear to have any intentions of following Elena and Stefan. And if he was at the airport then hopefully he was going to be getting far away from Fell's Church. Maybe that would mean life might actually get back to normal in their small town.

It was about damn time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

By the time Vickie's funeral and the reception afterwards were over, it was late in the afternoon. Meredith originally had no intentions of going to the reception, but Bonnie had dragged her to it. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with death; she'd been dealing with loss since a very young age. What she found the most difficult was trying to navigate amongst the living after they'd experienced a death. It was inevitable that you always said the wrong thing because there was nothing _right _to say. 'I'm sorry' was especially inconsequential.

For poor Vickie's sake Meredith managed to endure a couple hours of strained conversation. Around three, however, she couldn't take anymore and would have given anything to escape the horribly claustrophobic church basement. She tried to make a quiet retreat, but noticed Bonnie eyeing her as soon as she put her coat on.

"Where are you going?" Bonnie asked. "I thought you were coming over to my house afterwards."

Thinking quickly, Meredith tried to come up with something her friend would buy. Until she'd talked to George Watkins, she was reluctant to tell anyone that her grandfather had passed away. "Anna asked me to pick her up from the grocery store. I figured I'd slip out early to go do that, then come over to your house." Meredith kept her tone nonchalant and her face expressionless.

Bonnie studied Meredith's face questioningly for a moment. Fortunately she'd never had much of a suspicious nature. "Okay," she said, adding a nod that made her red curls bounce lightly. "Can you pick up the movies too? Nothing with killing, shooting, or airplanes though. I've been watching movies with Matt the last three nights and that's all he's into. Light on dialogue, heavy on macho."

Normally Meredith would have commented on Bonnie spending so much time with Matt, but she was too distracted. "Sure, no problem," she said, only having a vague notion of what had been said and agreed to. She would have agreed even if the request was running around the church in the buff if it meant getting out of there.

As she was leaving the church, Meredith knew that her mind should have been focused on the upcoming meeting with her grandfather's lawyer. Yet somehow her thoughts drifted to the conversation she'd had just that morning with Damon. What had he meant by look him up if she was ever in Italy? She had no plans of going there anytime soon. It was probably just another cryptic Damon comment.

'I can show you things you wouldn't believe'…I'm sure, Meredith thought sarcastically. Like how to "nuzzle" my neck in his bedroom most likely.

Meredith was eternally grateful that Damon had saved his breath as far as she was concerned. He'd always had more of an eye for blonde vixens, like Elena, or red-headed pixies ala Bonnie. Not that his preference in women had ever bothered Meredith. From their first acquaintance with Damon, she hadn't liked him one bit. There was just something about him that was a little _too_ suave. Seducing women was like breathing to him; he'd had five hundred years to perfect his art after all.

At least he was officially out of all their lives forever. Dismissing the dark-haired lothario from her mind, Meredith turned her attention to the task at hand. The card George Watkins had left last night and the black and white picture were both in her purse. She'd already figured out where his office was located the night before.

The office Meredith pulled up in front of wasn't very impressive from the outside. It was painted a bland beige color, the same as every other building near the centre of town. Stenciled on the large glass window that looked into a waiting room was 'Watkins Legal Practice' and just below that was 'George Watkins LLP'. The exterior certainly wasn't very impressive for a lawyer. To Meredith it looked like something you'd pick out of the Yellow Pages because it would likely be cheap.

Upon entering the office, however, Meredith realized where all the money must go. All the furniture was sleek black leather or glossy dark cherry wood. Her shoes were nearly swallowed by the plush, rose-colored carpet. Tasteful, yet modern art work adorned nearly every wall. Don't judge a book by its cover, she mentally chided herself.

A blonde woman wearing a white blouse and grey skirt, standard receptionist wear, greeted her from behind a desk with a friendly smile. "How can I help you?" she asked, flashing perfect veneers.

"I'm here to see Mr. Watkins," Meredith said, trying not to let her nervousness show. "My name's Meredith Sulez. I don't have an appointment, but he said it would be okay if I dropped in any time."

"Ah, of course," the receptionist responded. "George said I should expect you or your father any time. You must be Meredith." It was the second time within twenty-four hours that a complete stranger knew who she was. Meredith felt very discomfited by this. "Let me show you to his office."

Meredith followed the receptionist down an oak-paneled hallway. She was ushered into an office and the door was closed behind her. Looking up from his desk, George Watkins didn't seem overly surprised to see her. "Ah, I thought you would be in fairly soon," he said, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling with his smile. "Please, take a seat." Sitting down, she wondered how to best broach the subject of the picture. Her grandfather's lawyer appeared to believe she was there for another reason, though.

Spinning around in his chair, George opened a filing cabinet immediately behind him and pulled out a file. He turned around and picked up a pair of reading glasses from the desk. Placing the file on his desk, he opened it and scanned through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Here we go. This is the part of your grandfather's will that pertains to you. Would you like to see it yourself or should I read it out loud?"

Meredith wasn't overly interested in the will; she didn't require or need anything her grandfather might have left her. Since she was here, however, she figured they might as well get that part out of the way. "You can read it, if you don't mind."

"'To my granddaughter, Meredith, I leave my villa in Rome, all property taxes to be paid from a trust fund I have established in her name. Aside from the property taxes, Meredith is free to spend the remaining funds as she so—'"

"What trust fund?" Meredith held up a hand to stop him, highly perplexed. "I'm sure my father would have mentioned something to me about that."

"Actually, it was your grandfather's preference that no one in the family knew the particulars of his financial history until the time of his passing. Your father knows nothing of the villa or the trust fund."

"Okay," she replied slowly. "But why would he want to keep everything secret until after his death? That doesn't make sense."

"I'm afraid I don't know," George said, spreading his hands apart in a lawyerly shrug. "I was your grandfather's friend, but also his lawyer. When it came to matters such as these, I had no choice except to act according to the wishes of my client."

Studying George Watkins inconspicuously from beneath her lashes, Meredith had to wonder if she could trust him. Did he truly have her grandfather's best wishes at heart or his own agenda to fulfill? She desperately wanted to believe he was earnest in how he carried out her grandfather's last requests, would have given anything to trust someone with intimate knowledge of his past. It was only her usual reserve that kept her from flinging questions at him wildly.

"Would you like me to continue reading the will?" Meredith nodded and he turned his attention back to the document before him. "'Aside from the property taxes, Meredith is free to spend the remaining trust fund as she so desires. The total sum of the trust fund being ten million dollars—'"

"Ten _what_?" The usual control she maintained slipped entirely as she gasped in shock.

"Ten million dollars," George repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I take it you had no idea your grandfather was very wealthy. He's left an equal amount to your father and step-mother."

Meredith's mind was reeling, trying to absorb what she'd just heard and make sense of it. Her grandfather had left her a villa in Rome _and _more money than she'd ever imagined having in her life. How had no one in her family known that her grandfather was so rich? And where had all the money come from?

"I'm beginning to suspect there's a lot about him that I didn't know." Meredith spoke grimly, her dark eyes cast downward in thought. She decided that now was the time to ask what she'd truly come for. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the black and white photograph. "Do you know who this is?" Placing the picture on the desk, she pointed to the man standing next to her grandfather.

George's eyes widened as he studied the picture, an expression of sheer disbelief crossing his face. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, looking at Meredith sharply.

"I found it in the trunk of my grandfather's possessions that you brought over last night. The man in this photograph looks very similar to someone…I wish I'd never had the misfortune of meeting." She spoke frankly, deciding not to beat around the bush.

"You've met him?" Bushy eyebrows furrowed together as George mentally did the math. "Kane would be a very old man by now, though. How did you even recognize him from this picture?"

"He hadn't changed much," she said wryly. "His name was Kane? Did he ever go by anything else? Or have a relative who looked very similar to him?"

George tried to keep up with the barrage of questions. "Well, yes," he admitted reluctantly. "Kane had a twin brother. I can't quite recall his name..."

"Does 'Klaus' ring any bells?"

"Yes! That was it." He tried to suppress an involuntary shudder. "I only met him a couple times for which I was very grateful. Kane was…eccentric. An egomaniac whom did everything without fear. His brother, however, was truly unhinged. They both radiated power in their own way, but while Kane wanted to save the world from itself, Klaus wanted only to add to its destruction. He was insane."

You have no idea, Meredith thought to herself, her mind racing wildly. So Klaus had a twin—there was a terrifying notion. The brother, Kane, must have been—or still was—a vampire too. From their confrontation with Klaus, she could dimly recall him saying something like he was indestructible because he was one of the 'Old Ones', the 'Originals'. Fortunately his immortality had come to a swift end thanks to Elena and some pissed off ghosts.

Even if her grandfather hadn't been directly involved with Klaus, he'd belonged to the same organization as his brother, who was in all likelihood also a vampire. The mystery surrounding the picture she'd found only appeared to deepen.

"So the man in this picture is definitely Kane?" Meredith asked for verification.

"Yes, he's the only one John was friends with. Kane and his brother usually clashed, if I recall correctly. As a result Klaus wasn't around much and when he was, it was usually to stir up trouble."

"How did you and my grandfather meet Kane?" Leaning forward in her chair, Meredith was attentive and focused.

The expression on George's face was one of obvious discomfort. It was clear he didn't want to delve too deeply into the memories the photograph stirred up. "John and I met him during the second world war," he finally admitted with reluctance. "We were all in the same squad, stationed just outside of France. Kane and your grandfather became close friends. John even worked for him after the war. They remained good friends for a long time before they had some sort of falling out."

"Over what?"

With a tired sigh, George ran a hand over his haggard face. Then he leaned forward in his chair, the blue eyes that held a lifetime of wisdom and knowledge meeting her gaze earnestly. "Listen, Meredith. There are things here—" he tapped the picture with one finger—"in the past, that are best left buried. Sometimes stirring up old ghosts only leads to trouble."

Meredith gave him a kind, yet determined smile. "I have a right to know why my grandfather and this man were friends. Were they in some sort of club together? They have identical rings."

"I suppose you could call it a 'club'," he replied sarcastically.

"What would you call it?"

"A lifetime prison sentence is much more appropriate." There was a pause and another heavy sigh. "You don't want to hear this stuff. It will only serve to tarnish the memory of your grandfather."

"Right, my 'precious' childhood memories," Meredith said sardonically. The steady look she gave her grandfather's old friend was laced with a bitter understanding of how cruel life could be. While she might have appeared eighteen, anyone gazing into her eyes that were the shade of blackberries would have thought her much older. "One of my earliest memories of my grandfather is when he tried to kill me and my grandmother with a butcher knife. After that I only saw him in the institution where he was so doped up on drugs all he could do was drool. So there really isn't much you could tarnish any further than it already is."

George didn't appear taken aback by her complete honesty, merely fascinated. "There's a lot of John in you, you know. He had the same stubbornness and determination."

"Does that mean you'll tell me what I want to know?"

"I see you also inherited his directness," George replied with an amused smile. Removing his glasses, he sat back in his chair and gazed off into the distance for a long moment, seeming to gather his thoughts and memories. "John and I were sophomores in college when the war broke out. Both our families weren't very wealthy so we had to scrimp and save for our tuition. When they started recruiting for overseas, though, we knew our duty didn't lie on a campus. We both wound up in the same unit, over in Europe, which was where we met Kane."

"He fought for the States?" Meredith had to wonder why a vampire would want to fight for a human cause. There were decent ones like Stefan she supposed; then again on the opposite end of the spectrum there was Klaus. And Kane had been his brother.

"I'm not sure Kane fought for anything but the sheer thrill of it actually," George mused aloud. "The bastard would laugh _and_ spit in the face of danger. All of us would pray to see the light of another day, except for Kane. He wasn't afraid of anything. In fact, he appeared to relish in the destruction caused by war. Violence and chaos were what he got off on. We all called him 'The Crazy Son of a Bitch'. After awhile it became an official title of sorts."

"Did he and my grandfather become friends right away?"

George hesitated and an inner struggle ensued as he debated about how much to reveal. "What the hell," he muttered more to himself than Meredith. Reaching into one of his lower desk drawers, he pulled out a bottle of amber-hued rum and a crystal glass. "I have an extra glass if you'd like," he offered, but she shook her head. Filling up the glass half way, he tossed back the rum and grimaced in satisfaction.

"John and Kane didn't instantly hit it off, no," he continued as though there had been no break in story-telling. "That didn't happen until a few months into our tenure in Europe. Our unit was stationed in France, but we spent a lot of time performing raids. It was late April when we were sent on one in Luxemburg. We were told it would be an easy grab. The building was supposedly run by civilians and there weren't many enemy soldiers in the area. It was without a doubt the easiest raid of my military career." George laughed, but it was caustic and harsh.

"What was it?" Meredith's voice came out in a fervent whisper.

"Even Kane wasn't quite prepared for what we found. At first we thought the building had been abandoned. The Intel we received said it was an apartment building, but there was no one there. That was when one of the men found an underground tunnel…"

George filled his glass with more rum, this time nearly to the rim.

"It was a camp."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Like a concentration camp?" Meredith asked.

"Yes...and no. It's difficult to explain." From the pained look on George's face, it was apparent he wasn't merely referring to the complexity of the story. It was literally hard for him to talk about what had happened. "There were prisoners, but it was more like a science lab. None of the doctors or scientists who ran the place put up much of a fight when we burst in. Very few of them spoke English, not that you needed to speak the same language to understand that we carried guns. Weaponry has a universal language of its own."

The tone of George's voice became clinical and matter-of-fact. Meredith didn't judge him for his detachment; it was probably the only way he could speak openly about what had occurred.

"The prisoners we found were used for a very specific purpose," he continued. "All of them were either twins or in some cases triplets."

"All of them?" she echoed in disbelief. "Why?"

"One was the control and the other was the test subject," George explained. "They were there for medical experimentation. Human lab rats. The goddamn Nazi's were so obsessed with creating their 'pure race'. It went far beyond wanting to simply create an Aryan race though. They thought they could play God, fix the 'flaws' our creator gave us. Make humans faster, stronger, smarter, live longer…None of the 'weaknesses' inherent with mortality."

Downing his drink in one swift gulp, George gazed into the bottom of the empty glass as though the past resided there. "Some of the subjects we found were healthy, normal…others were bare remnants of human beings. We found a six year old boy who lived in a tank of water, complete with gills and webbed feet." Her grandfather's friend barely managed to suppress a shudder.

Meredith wasn't entirely sure what to say, so she remained quiet; it wasn't as though she were ordinarily verbose anyway. Not many people would have believed the grandiose things George was saying. Most would have accused him of being nothing more than a highly imaginative fraudster. Yet Meredith didn't think that of him at all. In all her years spent trying to discern answers to her family's dark secrets from her father and grandmother, she'd learned to observe people closely. A smile to try and disguise despair, hands clasped to prevent wringing them from anxiety, a downward shift of the eyes; people were a fascinating study in deception. George Watkins gave none of the usual signs he was being dishonest.

To her own surprise she realized she believed him completely.

"Even after we translated their work, your grandfather was the only one who figured out what they were doing. As horrible as it was, the Nazi's were decades ahead in genetic research. John was fascinated by all the information we were gathering. The only one more obsessed with it was Kane. Like me, he didn't understand any of the genetic formulas, but he was enthralled with the notion of manipulating DNA."

"Granddad was a geneticist?" Meredith asked, surprised and bemused. "Dad only ever mentioned that he was an insurance salesman."

"That's the job he took up when he moved back to America," George confirmed with a nod. "Before the war started, though, John's true love was science. Genetics was the area he chose to specialize in. Finding that lab was what drew John and Kane close together. While the rest of us were horrified by what we'd found, they were like kids in a candy store."

Suddenly realizing who he was talking to, he quickly added, "Not to say that your grandfather was by any means heartless. He was disgusted by how the prisoners had been treated. It was just that he'd never seen a lot of the theories he'd read about in books put in practice."

"It's okay," Meredith reassured him. "I think I understand. He'd never expected to find any live test subjects. Most of the experiments the Nazi's were doing had probably been deemed too immoral by the rest of the scientific world."

"Yes, that was exactly it," George said, relieved that Meredith didn't think her grandfather a monster. "After the war was over, John took the findings with him to Cambridge where he'd been accepted for school. The professors there mocked him and told him they were all inconclusive, not to mention depraved. That didn't stop your grandfather, though. After graduating, he went to work for Kane—who apparently had a fortune he'd never mentioned—to spend on the budding science of genetics and DNA research."

"What happened after that?"

"Years passed with very little contact. Then one night I got this call from John, asking me to make arrangements for him and your grandmother to move back to the States. I tried to ask him what was going on, but he was evasive and vague with his answers. When I told him I thought he must be in some kind of trouble, he assured me he was perfectly fine. With a smile and a wink, that was your grandfather," George said grimly.

"Once the arrangements had been made and he moved back here, we began to talk again. It was as though our friendship had never stopped for many years. I was devastated when your father called to tell me about his stroke…"

Meredith nodded. A stroke is what they'd told people had happened when her grandfather went mad. Not everyone in Fell's Church had always believed that, of course. Even with the Hadsforth Institute well outside of town, someone from there must have talked or someone local had figured out that something didn't quite add up with her family's story. Either way, rumors had started to spread. Meredith had done her best to ignore them, but it hadn't always been easy.

"From there, John's mental health deteriorated quickly. There became fewer and fewer moments after…" He gestured helplessly.

"After he tried to kill me and my grandmother," Meredith supplied for him. She refrained from telling him about the attack since she wasn't entirely sure if George knew of Klaus' involvement in that.

"Right," George said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "After that, there were fewer and fewer moments where he was actually lucid. Before his mental health deteriorated too far, he once again gave me a late night call. That was when he asked me to set up his will and the trust for you."

There's more he's not telling me, Meredith thought with conviction.

"I need to know what Granddad was doing in Europe. What exactly was he doing for Kane?" Even though her head was already spinning with newfound information, she felt an urge to learn more. Secrets of the past finally unveiled.

"Although John began to get worse, I still continued to visit him. I felt a sense of loyalty and friendship towards him even though he'd chosen to segregate himself from me after he began working for Kane. During my visits, he spoke often of Kane and something called the 'Dark Veritas'."

"What is the Dark Veritas?" Thinking quickly, Meredith suddenly put two and two together. "Is that why they wore those rings?"

"You have to understand that I'm piecing together random bits of information I picked up, but I believe they were…a cult. The more I think about the past, about things I ignored that I shouldn't have, the more I'm convinced that's the truth. If I'm right, they were a group of very wealthy and powerful…vampires." On the last word, George's voice dropped to a hushed whisper.

"Of course, I don't believe in such things," he added, waving a hand dismissively. Meredith refrained from commenting, although the fear in George's blue eyes made her think he felt quite the opposite. It made her wonder what he would say if she told him she was a _strong_ believer. "In my years as trial lawyer, though, I learned that there are people who are crazy enough to believe they are vampires. Usually such people are in jail or mental institutions. The Dark Veritas were different from the typical insane cult, however."

"How so?"

"They had money, power, and influence. Not everyone knew about the Dark Veritas and that was the way they preferred to keep it. I spent almost a decade in Europe, but never heard of them until John mentioned them. From what he told me, though, it wasn't wise to cross them. Once you were in, you were privy to a world of luxury and comfort, but at a cost. There was never any way to get 'out', for example. When you belonged to the Dark Veritas you were theirs for life."

"Why would Granddad join them then?" Meredith's brow furrowed in thought, her obsidian eyes speculative. "Didn't he realize what he was getting himself into?"

"I suspect—not that I was able to confirm this as fact—that Kane was the leader. He had a power, a certain way of swaying people to his way of thinking. I believe he lured John with the promise of a job where he could work on his genetics experiments whenever he pleased. From there, there were even greater perks. Money, lavish parties, women…"

"I'm guessing all good things eventually came to an end," Meredith commented wryly.

George gave a helpless shrug. "John would never tell me exactly what happened. When he called to ask me to make arrangements for him to come back to the States, he wasn't very forthcoming with any details. From his tone and sense of urgency, however, I could tell that something terrible had happened."

In the pale afternoon light streaming through the blinds George's face was drawn. The wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead that initially made him appear sophisticated now simply made him look old and tired. Meredith couldn't help feeling bad for him. It was obvious dredging up the past wasn't easy for him.

Even though she was fairly certain there was more her grandfather's friend wasn't disclosing, Meredith decided they'd covered enough for the day. There was plenty for her to mull over and contemplate. Maybe in a few days she would be able to return and hear the rest.

"Thank you for telling me these things," Meredith said sincerely. "My family has never been very chatty about Granddad. Most of what I figured out came from conversations I overheard. So I appreciate this more than you could ever know."

"I'm glad I told you then," he said after a pause. "There's nothing worse than being kept in the dark about someone you love."

Placing the picture back in her purse, Meredith rose from her chair. "I've taken up enough of your time. If I had to, though…would it be alright if I came back?"

"Of course," he replied. "Anytime you'd like. Would you like me to show you out?"

"I should be okay. Thank you again." Meredith extended a hand and managed a smile as she shook George's hand.

Meredith went to release her grip, but he maintained his as he gave her a long, steady look. "Be careful, Meredith. This isn't something I would recommend pursuing any further. The Dark Veritas aren't a group you want to try and interfere with. Please keep what I've told you to yourself. It could be dangerous for both of us if it gets out."

"I will," she promised solemnly. He released her hand and Meredith left with the words of his warning echoing bleakly in her ears.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was almost six by the time Meredith left George's office. She couldn't believe she'd been talking to him for nearly three hours—and was still reeling from everything he'd revealed to her. Prior to the last two days, Meredith had never agreed with the expression that "Ignorance is bliss". Now, however, she could easily identify with whoever had coined that phrase.

Sometimes the truth was simply too disturbing.

Before discovering the photograph hidden in an old trunk, Meredith had thought her family's history with vampires began with the attack on her grandfather and should have ended with his death. That knowledge alone had been horrifying enough to try and deal with. Now it turned out that he'd not only known one vampire, he'd known an entire cult of them. He'd befriended vampires, worked alongside them, and used genetics to help them with God only knew what.

A thousand ghoulish possibilities ran through Meredith's mind, each one more nightmarish than the last.

Ideally she would have liked nothing more than to sit down in a quiet corner somewhere to contemplate everything George had told her. Meredith had a lot to think about, especially in regards to the type of man her grandfather had been. These latest revelations into his character made her feel like she'd known him less than ever before.

Unfortunately she'd promised Bonnie that they would have a girl's night. Contemplating her family's history would have to be put on hold for a short while. Maybe that wasn't such a terrible thing, Meredith realized as she started up her car. Sometimes too much time to think and brood wasn't healthy.

Dimly recalling that she'd promised to pick up the movies, she headed to the video store to grab copies of "Dirty Dancing" and "Pretty Woman". Forever the hopeless romantic, Bonnie would be thrilled, and they were perfect for a night of forgetful fun.

It was nearly seven by the time Meredith made it to the McCoullough's. Bonnie's older sister, Mary, answered the door, looking exhausted. Her shift at the clinic must have ran late.

"Hi Meredith," Mary greeted her, barely stifling a yawn. "Sorry for the less-than-enthusiastic greeting. I was just heading to bed. Bonnie's in her room."

"Meredith—thank God!" Bonnie practically shouted in relief when Meredith came in. She was seated cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by dozens of colorful pamphlets and brochures. Her auburn curls were in a state of complete disarray. "How are you supposed to pick just one college?" she demanded, as though it was the most unfair decision she'd ever been asked to make.

Grabbing the brochure for West Virginia College from the bed, Meredith perched on the arm of a lavender lazy boy as she perused it. "Weren't you supposed to send off applications in April?" she asked, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"I did…to all these ones," Bonnie admitted, indicating every brochure and pamphlet surrounding her. "I couldn't make a decision then so I figured I'd see who'd actually take me. I didn't realize ninety-nine percent of them would accept."

Meredith had to laugh, tossing a stuffed hippo from the chair at her friend playfully. "They're community colleges, they accept anyone with decent grades who can cover the cost of tuition."

"No one told me that," Bonnie said indignantly. "'Guidance' counselors my foot. Why don't you just pick one for me? Or maybe I should just do eeny-meeny-miny-mo."

"Yes, because that's always a reliable system," Meredith teased her.

"I think I've narrowed it down to Mountain State or Valley. Those seem like good schools, right? Or maybe…" Bonnie flopped backwards on her bed with a melodramatic moan, sending several brochures flying. "I give up. I might as well just resign my fate to working at the Dairy Shack all summer."

"You did look awfully cute in that hat," Meredith said, hiding a smile behind her hand.

Bonnie and Meredith had spent a grueling summer when they were fifteen slaving away at the Dairy Shack. The owner was cheap, the days were long, and they were expected to wear a uniform. It might not have been so bad, the black pants and red t-shirt were tolerable, but you were also expected to wear a visor—with a smiling, waving stuffed cow on the front of it.

Stretching out on her stomach, Bonnie fixed her with a mock glare. "As I recall, you looked just as sexy as I did," she shot back petulantly. Propping her chin in her hands, she gave Meredith a look with brown eyes that were the picture of innocence. "How about you," she asked casually, "have you decided if you're going to Duke or not?"

"Your attempts at subtlety are admirable," Meredith said in a deadpan. She knew that in asking about Duke, Bonnie was really asking about the status of her relationship with Alaric.

"Oh, come on. I'm your best friend—I have a God-given right to pry!"

Meredith rolled her eyes, but figured there was no harm in indulging Bonnie's insatiable quest for information about her love life. "I'm not sure where we stand," she admitted honestly. "We write each other often and he says he loves me, but I don't know…"

"You don't know if you love him?" Bonnie said, aghast. "What's not to love? Those eyes, that body…" Feigning swooning, she rolled onto her back with a hand pressed to her forehead. She was rewarded for her play acting with a heart-shaped pillow to the head.

"Alaric is gorgeous, I'm not denying that," Meredith admitted, glad her olive complexion didn't easily reveal when she was blushing. "There's just been a lot going on right now that I'm unsure of. My grandfather actually passed away a couple of nights ago."

"Oh no," Bonnie said, sitting up, all traces of humor replaced by concern. "I'm so sorry, Meredith. Are you okay?"

Thinking of her grandfather, his final days spent in a sterile institution, she had to stifle a shiver. "I am okay," Meredith said honestly. "We used to go visit him every second week when I was younger and I hated it. Sometimes he would know who we were, but mostly he just sat and stared. It was awful to see him in that state so I'm glad he's finally at peace now."

Reaching into her purse, Meredith pulled out the black and white picture. "There's something else I'm really concerned about, though. Take a look at this." Bonnie took the picture from her and began to study it. "The man on the right is my grandfather and the man on the left—"

"It's Klaus!" Bonnie gasped.

It appeared as though she was going to add something else when a vacant and far-away look slipped over her face all of a sudden. A chill crept up Meredith's spine. She'd become accustomed to Bonnie's trances, but this one came on with an abruptness that was frightening—at the exact moment she recognized the man in the photograph.

"Merry," Bonnie intoned in a voice much deeper than her usual cadence, "Merry Berry."

The chill turned into bitter icicles that numbed her to the bone. "Merry Berry" was the nickname her grandfather used to call her when she was a little girl. There was no possible way that Bonnie could have known that. The only person still around who would remember her childhood nickname was her father.

"Granddad?" Meredith asked tentatively.

"There isn't much time, it was hard for me to get through at all. I'm sorry this duty has to fall on you, my Dear, but there's no one else I can trust. You have to go to Rome and stop the Dark Veritas before it's too late. Kane is a madman, if he succeeds with his plans it could mean the end of mankind as we know it." Bonnie let out a forlorn sigh that sounded much older and wearier than her seventeen years. "I'm sorry, Merry Berry. I didn't know what I was helping him with. Please forgive me."

Meredith was too stunned to say anything at first. Was it really possible that her grandfather was speaking through Bonnie? Honoria Fell had used her as a conduit to pass messages along from the dead to the living so it was feasible that another spirit could use Bonnie in the same way.

"I don't understand." She finally found her voice, even if it wavered slightly. "Why is this happening?"

"I wish I could explain more," Bonnie said, her ethereal voice laced with human regret. "You have to go back to George Watkins. Ask him about your mother's death, make him tell you the truth. You need to know everything before you go and stop the Dark Veritas."

"Stop them from what? And how?" Meredith asked incredulously. "They're vampires, I don't have they're strength or powers."

Her grandfather didn't appear to have heard her. Bonnie's head was tilted to the side, her auburn curls spilling over her shoulder, as though she was listening to something. "You must also beware the man in black. He will be a necessary ally in your quest, but you must not trust him entirely. With barely a thought he will betray you to the darkness with a smile and a bow."

After making this ominous declaration, her head drooped to her chest and she let out a low moan. "Granddad?" There was no immediate response. Meredith hesitated, wondering if she should attempt to bring Bonnie out of her trance. It appeared as though the spirit of her grandfather had come and gone, but she couldn't be certain. Bonnie began rocking back and forth slowly, her lips moving without making any sound.

Meredith decided to try and awaken Bonnie from wherever her focus still remained. Just as she was reaching for the other girl's arm, however, Bonnie's head flew up and her eyes shot open in panic. "HELP HER!" she demanded anxiously. "Somebody please help her! She's trapped…there's flames all around. Oh God, it's so hot. She's burning…"

Taking a step back in alarm, Meredith wasn't sure what to make of what Bonnie was saying, although it was clear she was in distress. The back-and-forth rocking became a lot more frantic and urgent. Bunches of the comforter became clenched in her fists as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Isabella…" she whimpered mournfully.

Suddenly it all clicked in to place. Bonnie was somehow channeling the instant of her mother's death.

All the color drained out of Meredith's face. Unable to take anymore of what Bonnie was saying, she seized her by the upper arms and began to shake her, perhaps slightly harder than was necessary. The glazed, distant look on Bonnie's face ebbed gradually until it was replaced by one of extreme annoyance.

"Why are you shaking me?" Extracting herself from Meredith's grip, she noticed a familiar look on her friend's face. "Uh oh, I know that look. Did I have another trance? I thought I was supposed to be done with those stupid things."

It wasn't uncommon for Bonnie to remember nothing of what she said or did when she had one of her psychic episodes. Meredith actually felt grateful for the customary memory loss in this situation. Thinking quickly, she shoved the picture back in her purse. If what her grandfather—gut instinct convinced her that was who'd spoken through Bonnie at first—had said was true then knowing what Meredith did could be very dangerous.

Meredith didn't want to risk Bonnie's life along with her own.

"What do you remember?" she asked carefully.

"We were talking about…college." Bonnie's forehead furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember what had happened. "You told me about your grandfather and you were going to show me…something." She struggled to recall all the details, but gave up with a dismissive shrug. "What'd I say?"

"Nothing much," Meredith lied casually. "You were mumbling a lot and I couldn't make out most of what you said."

Touching her face, Bonnie's eyes widened in alarm when her fingers came away wet. "Was I crying?"

The lies just kept coming. Meredith might have felt bad about being untruthful with her friend if she hadn't been doing so for Bonnie's own good. "You were crying a little bit. Maybe whoever was channeling you was upset." There, at least that last part wasn't a total lie.

"Frigging fan-tas-tic!" Bonnie muttered irately. "I've now become the local operating service for the dearly departed. Just what I've always wanted. Maybe I should start my own psychic hotline for speaking to the dead. I could charge five bucks a minute and have my own infomercial. Might as well make some money off this—this _thing _I never asked for!"

Meredith rolled her eyes, feeling immensely relieved that Bonnie had decided not to fixate on what her trance was about. "Come on, Miss Cleo," she joked lightly. "Let's go downstairs and watch 'Dirty Dancing'. A shirtless Patrick Swayze always cheers you up."

"You know me so well." Bonnie was already bouncing out the door and down the stairs. "I'll make popcorn!" she called back.

Heading down the stairs slowly, Meredith's mind felt muddled and overwhelmed. She didn't know what to think or do about what her grandfather had told her. How could he possibly expect her to put a stop to whatever the Dark Veritas were up to? And what could they possibly have to do with the death of her mother? Of everything he'd told her, in fact, she could only be certain of one thing: she'd be going back to see George Watkins a lot sooner than either of them had expected.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next day, Meredith was back in George's office early in the morning. She wasn't going to be easily dissuaded from the whole truth this time; she intended to find out _everything_ he knew. No matter how painful it might be. Her grandfather wouldn't have spoken to her through Bonnie if it wasn't vitally important, Meredith felt certain. The sense of urgency in his words had told her to take what he'd said very seriously.

One of the tasks he'd given her was easily accomplished: talk to George Watkins again. Check. The other might be slightly more challenging to fulfill. How did one stop an entire vampire cult and its leader?

To stop one vampire had taken the combined effort of vampire brothers, the spirit of her best friend, and an entourage of civil war ghosts. On one level Meredith figured she was royally screwed, yet on another she knew that her grandfather wouldn't just feed her to the wolves.

Despite the fact that he'd tried to kill her when she was five, she knew deep down her grandfather would never have done that if it wasn't for Klaus' attack. It had taken her awhile growing up to reconcile the truth with the overwhelming fear she'd felt as a child. Her parents had been afraid of taking her to visit him at first, concerned that it would be too much for her young mind.

When Meredith was seven, they'd encouraged her to accompany them to the institution. She could still remember the terror she'd felt walking down those sterile hospital corridors, her heart beating in her chest like a trapped bird. Even at such a young age, though, she'd done her best to be strong despite being certain that when her grandfather saw her he'd try to attack her all over again.

Finish what he'd started two years ago.

That hadn't been what happened at all. He'd been so drugged up (Meredith later learned the hospital staff did that before all their visits) that her grandfather could barely focus on any of them. Mostly he'd stared at the bone white linoleum, completely oblivious. Occasionally a bit of drool would run down his chin and a nurse would come along to wipe it away.

In that first visit, Meredith's initial fear had been quickly replaced by pity. It had still taken her years to try and determine why he'd tried to kill her and her grandmother, something that made sense. Finally, she'd come to realize that the man who'd attacked them both was not the same one she'd known growing up.

Something—Meredith had known even at seven that whatever it was had been very bad—had caused him to be driven mad. He'd been so out of his mind that he couldn't recognize his loved ones from the enemy. Once she'd recognized this as the truth, she'd been able to forgive him and chose to remember him as he was before the attack. The loving and kind granddad who'd taught her how to tell time, who she'd built bird houses with, and who'd taken her on fishing trips.

Klaus had brought those peaceful times to a clashing, jarring halt. And maybe he hadn't been alone.

"Back so soon," George said, bringing Meredith abruptly back to the present. He was smiling as he set a cup of tea down in front of her, but she had a feeling he wasn't the least bit pleased to see her come back so quickly. Perhaps he realized the true intentions behind her hasty return. "Did you remember something else you wanted to ask?"

Meredith had to choke back a laugh. "Where to begin," she murmured. Adding cream and sugar to her tea, she stirred slowly while contemplating how best to broach the topic of her mother's death. There really was no easy way and it wasn't as though subtlety had ever been her strong suit.

"Why don't we start with the death of my mother? That seems like a good place to begin."

George, in the process of sipping his tea, swallowed the steaming liquid too quickly. It looked as though he was almost choking for a moment before he managed to clear his throat and recover. There was a brief pause as he gathered his thoughts, probably trying how best to broach a touchy subject. "What do you know about her death?" he finally asked.

"Only what my father told me. That she was in a bad car accident when I was just a year old. 'Killed on impact' was how he put it...Somehow I think there's far more to the story than that, though."

"What makes you think that?"

Meredith knew it wouldn't be wise to mention she knew because her grandfather had spoken from beyond the grave through her best friend. George would probably have her put back in the same room at the Hadsforth Institute that her grandfather had recently vacated. Instead she'd concocted a story that sounded believable. It was a gamble, but it would pay off if she was right.

"What you told me about the Dark Veritas. If they were as powerful and influential as you say, I have my doubts that they would let my grandfather run away so easily. He must have known a lot of their secrets and with all that work he did for them…"

As Meredith trailed off, she saw that George had taken the bait she'd cast out. The furtive look in his eyes faded entirely and his shoulders slumped in defeat. In one sense she felt victorious that her hunch had been right; in another she felt completely horrified.

"What happened when Granddad came back to the States?" Meredith's voice came out stronger and steadier than she'd anticipated. To still hands that wanted to begin shaking badly, she grasped her tea cup with both hands and concentrated on drinking her tea.

"For a long time nothing happened. Your grandparents raised a family here in Fell's Church, including your mother. Everything was fine for many years. John was paranoid for the first few, though. He would rarely admit why that was, but you would often catch him looking over his shoulder or just looking worried."

"He figured the Dark Veritas would try to follow him?"

George nodded with a somber expression. "I was the only one he ever confided his feelings to and I think that's only because I'd met Klaus. I knew how persuasive he could be—how strong and fearless. After awhile, though, when nothing happened, John began to relax. He figured he'd truly been able to escape them."

"I'm guessing he was wrong," Meredith said dryly. Her face was expressionless, but she was drinking in every word as though there might be a test afterwards.

Who knew, if she pursued this to the end her grandfather insisted on there just might be. It might be the greatest test of, and potentially _for_, her life.

"The rest of this is pure speculation," George continued. "I have no way of confirming if John's version of events was true or not. He confided what he believed happened to Isabella just before he went completely insane. So it might just be the delusional ravings of a mad man but, well…he seemed pretty convinced."

"What did he say happened?"

"John thought the Dark Veritas had been there the whole time; watching, waiting, biding their time. He figured they waited to lure him into a false sense of ease so they could strike when he was finally happy and comfortable."

"When was that?" Meredith asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.

"A year after you were born," George said quietly. "John believed the car crash that killed your mother wasn't an accident. Like I said, it was impossible to confirm if he was right or not. There were no witnesses and, well…did your father ever tell you it was a hit-and-run?"

Meredith shook her head, a feeling of numbness spreading throughout her entire body. It was as though she were hearing the words George was saying from down a long tunnel. Everything felt surreal and far away. Part of her wanted to clap her hands over her ears and not hear the rest, but they remained grasping her tea cup. The wheels of truth had been set in motion and she knew that she was helpless to stop them.

"The car Isabella was driving was in bad shape by the time the ambulance and fire trucks got there. It caught fire—"

"Fire?" Meredith interjected. Bits and pieces of Bonnie's trance came back to her suddenly like déjà vu. She's trapped…there's flames all around…HELP HER!

George nodded slowly with a pained look on his face. "There wasn't much anybody could have done. Flames overwhelmed the car far too quickly. Your mother was trapped. By the time they were able to get to her it was too late…"

"And Granddad figured the Dark Veritas were responsible?"

"I don't think there was a single doubt in his mind. At first I thought he just wanted someone to blame, but I know that John also felt responsible for her death. The guilt that ate at him nearly destroyed him. He was devastated by Isabella's death. Everyone was shocked by it."

Four years. They'd let four years pass before they'd returned to attack her grandfather? Why? Why not just take care of him right then and there? That was if the Dark Veritas were involved in the attack. There was the possibility Klaus had been operating independently.

Gut instinct told Meredith that wasn't likely. Something had happened after four years had expired…something that required more than just "punishing" him. It was like a knife stabbing into her heart for Meredith, knowing that her mother's life had been nothing more than an easily disposable pawn in the politics of the undead. Fury, sadness, and pain threatened to overwhelm her. Only through perfect self-control did she manage to keep them at bay.

"Is there anything more?" she asked, as though her world hadn't already been shattered to pieces. "Anything else I should know?"

"I don't think so," George said, frowning thoughtfully. "After Isabella's death, John disappeared for several months. He never told me where he went, though, and he came back immediately when he heard you were in the hospital."

This news was startling and more unexpected than anything else she'd learned. "I was in the hospital? When? Why?"

"Your parents really did keep a lot from you, didn't they?" George's kind blue eyes were wrought with sympathy and pity. "It was shortly after your second birthday, I believe. You had an extreme form of anemia…basically you had contracted a virus that was destroying your blood cells faster than your body could make them. Even with near constant blood transfusions the doctors could barely keep up to the disease."

Meredith felt sick at not knowing any of this. The dark, oozing sense of betrayal alone was nausea inducing. It seemed wrong that she should find out that she'd had a fatal disease from a complete stranger. Why had her father never mentioned this to her? Yet another secret buried in the muck and mire beneath her family tree.

"What turned everything around?" she asked. "I'm obviously fine now. What did they do?"

"That's the weird thing. You weren't doing very well for awhile. The doctors had never seen anything like you had before. Your father was devastated. Having you sick on top of what happened to your mother…Thankfully everything turned out fine where you were concerned. Shortly after your grandfather came back, you started to improve. Six months later there was no sign of the virus. It was remarkable."

Meredith took a moment to try and determine what this new piece of the puzzle had to do with everything else she'd learned—if it even had anything to do with it at all. Somehow she thought it did, but until she had time to look into everything further there was no way of knowing how or why her childhood illness fit in. As though there weren't enough mysteries on her plate already.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you all these things," George was saying, drawing her from her reverie.

"No, it's fine," Meredith reassured him. "At least someone is finally being honest with me. I owe you a world of thanks." She began to gather up her coat and purse. "You've given me a lot to think over, I'll admit, but please don't feel bad about any of it. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

As Meredith left George's office for the second time in two days, she was aware of how differently she felt this time as compared to yesterday. Yesterday had been a shock, a revelation into her grandfather's character and history. It didn't change anything about her, though, except her understanding of who he was and why.

Today was different. Today she'd found out her mother had been taken away from her because of a group of vampires she'd never even known existed. Today she had discovered the root cause of why nothing in her life had ever been normal.

The worst part was learning the entire truth about the death of her mother.

This discovery hadn't fully sunk in yet, until Meredith slipped into her car and the despair hit her with the full force of a tsunami. If it hadn't been for the Dark Veritas, her mother would still be alive. Meredith could have grown up with both of her parents, a whole and happy family. Her father hadn't met Anna until Meredith was twelve. Until then, Meredith had been forced to cope without much of a feminine influence in her life. Henry had done his best and she loved him for it, but he was easily baffled when it came to Barbies, lacy dresses, and tea parties. Thankfully Anna had managed to help fill him in on many of the gray areas of being a girl from the time puberty hit or Meredith was certain her father would have run screaming for the hills.

Meredith's step-mother had tried valiantly to slip into the role of female confidant to a young girl on the cusp of becoming a teenager. By the age of twelve, however, Meredith was already too set in her ways. It wasn't that she hated Anna, they got along fine and she was glad to see her father with someone who made him smile again. Meredith simply did not open up to most people with the exception of Bonnie and Elena.

In a rare moment of self-pity, angry tears welled up in the corners of Meredith's eyes. She felt livid at fate, the Dark Veritas, and even her grandfather. How could he have been so foolish? He must have realized on some level exactly what he was getting himself involved with. Reaching in her purse where she still had the war time picture Meredith pulled it out and studied her grandfather as a young man. He had his chest thrust out with pride, arm thrown comradely around Kane's shoulders, and a devil-may-care smile. It was a smile that spoke of the follies of youth and brashly made decisions.

With a heavy sigh, Meredith realized the futility of being furious with her grandfather. Maybe he had known what Kane was and thought he could handle what he was getting himself into—until it was too late. And it wasn't as though there hadn't been consequences for his actions. Her grandfather must have been eaten alive with guilt when he alone knew the death of his daughter was no accident. Then he'd been attacked himself four years later, driven entirely out of his mind.

No, her grandfather didn't deserve her anger, Meredith realized. The Dark Veritas were the ones who needed to pay for everything they had cheated her of.

They had stolen her mother, grandfather, and turned her childhood into a nightmarish hell. Clenching her hands into fists, Meredith felt a newfound sense of determination slip over her. Not since she'd begun to unearth her family's twisted secrets two days ago had she been so certain of what she had to do. Even when her grandfather had spoken through Bonnie she'd felt only disoriented uncertainty.

Today was different. Today Meredith knew exactly what she had to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When Meredith announced that she wanted to take a year off before starting University, her parents weren't exactly thrilled. Backpacking through Europe wasn't the sort of education Henry Sulez had imagined for his "little girl". Meredith took an immense amount of satisfaction from not doing what was expected of her for once.

Keep the family secrets, don't even speak of them unless absolutely necessary—she was so sick and tired of it all. Not to mention that it still stung knowing that no one had told her she'd been deathly ill as a child.

It took the rest of the summer for Meredith to develop her plan. While she hadn't missed the sense of urgency in her grandfather's words when he'd spoken through Bonnie, she wasn't about to go charging into the midst of a group of vampires without doing her homework.

The biggest obstacle—besides finding a way to obliterate a swarm of undead—was simply being who she was. Meredith knew to barge in and advertise she was the granddaughter of John Forsythe would be an automatic death sentence. Why not just paint a bulls-eye on her forehead?

Even as she did her best to act care-free and enjoy her time with her friends, the Dark Veritas were rarely far from her mind. It was infuriating to realize they had been solely responsible for all of the loss and pain she'd ever experienced. They'd been controlling her life before she'd even been born.

It was time to take that control back.

Meredith knew that what she was about to undertake went entirely against her nature. Elena and Bonnie gravitated towards danger and excitement; Meredith avoided both at all costs. It wasn't cowardice so much as an inbred sense towards self-preservation. She figured having her grandfather try to kill her when she was five awoke that instinct in her earlier than most people.

Contemplating her nature one day was what led Meredith to the solution to her main problem. To be able to completely throw caution to the wind while in Rome, being herself would not work—she needed to be someone else entirely.

Thanks to modern technology it was relatively easy to forge a new identity. After doing some research on the internet, Meredith discovered it was simpler than she'd imagined. It also didn't hurt that she had her grandfather's old friend assisting her. George had initially balked at her idea at first, but he quickly got on board when she explained what the alternative was. With his help in slipping through a lot of the legal loopholes, Meredith's alter ego came swiftly to life.

The first step was selecting a new name: she chose "Madeline" after her favorite fictional character as a child and since it was near enough to her own name that she'd at least react to it. She also chose French as her new nationality since she spoke it and Spanish fluently. If anyone were to question her lack of an accent she'd blame it on all the traveling she'd done with her ship merchant father.

As a model for her new personality she chose Scarlett O'Hara; a rich, spoiled heiress who wanted exactly what she couldn't have. In this particular instance, it wasn't the love of the dashing Ashley Wilkes she was after, but fun and excitement.

After being cloistered in a boarding school for her formative years, Madeline was finally done with her education and ready to burn through her trust fund. Her lofty ambition in life was to attend as many parties as she could manage and to meet all kinds of people—preferably of the power and influential sort.

On the day she was to depart, Meredith went to George Watkins office for what would prove to be the last time. Using the key he'd given her she slipped through the back door; they'd both decided it was best not to alert her parents to how often she came to see him. Fell's Church was gossip central and her parents would definitely determine there was something suspicious about her seeking out the company of a lawyer in her spare time.

It was a Saturday so the office was technically closed, but that didn't mean George wouldn't be there. During the last couple of months Meredith had discovered he was quite the workaholic. She'd often dropped in on him at unusual hours and he'd always been there.

That was why it struck her as off when she slipped through the door and found the lights off. The possibility that he'd decided to sleep in on a Saturday fleetingly crossed Meredith's mind—only to be dismissed just as quickly. George was _always_ there.

The feeling of wrongness was confirmed when she flicked on the lights in George's office and found it not only deserted, but cleaned out. A quick search of the filing cabinets and desk found that the only items that had been left behind were a few random office supplies. All other documents had been taken.

It puzzled and bothered Meredith to think that George had disappeared seemingly over night. Just in case he might have left something behind for her to indicate why or where he might have gone, she performed a more thorough search.

A brown envelope with her name scrawled on it had been left in the middle drawer of his desk.

Tearing it open, she dumped out the contents on to the desk. There was a passport, birth certificate, and social insurance card in the name of her alias. Along with these items were a silver ring and a note attached to a file folder. Ignoring the other items momentarily, Meredith quickly scanned the note.

Dear Meredith,

By now you have figured out that I am nothing more than a coward. I meant to tell you long ago that I intended to leave, but every time I tried to the words were never there. Basically it comes down to being afraid for myself. A completely selfish and awful reason I know.

The nightmares began around the time you came to talk to me about your grandfather. Every night I saw the Dark Veritas coming to kill me for helping you. I'd wake up screaming and covered in cold sweat. What a terrible justification for running away. What are a few nightmares compared to what you are about to go bravely do?

While I still wish I could talk you out of this whole foolish endeavor, I have to come to know enough of your character to realize you won't back down from this. I have had only a partial glimpse into the lion's den and tremble in fear. You, on the other hand, hold your head high and march directly in to face the beast. You have my deepest respect and admiration.

I hope the documents I was able to obtain for you will be useful. I've also included any and all information I was able to dig up on the Dark Veritas. It's not much, but it's a start. The ring belonged to your grandfather, of course. I was reluctant to give it you at first because it's a dangerous possession to have, but I'm glad to part with it if it means it will help you in your quest.

I'm not entirely certain what it is you're seeking by doing this. All I can say is be careful and best of luck to you. It has been an honor getting to know the granddaughter of a dear friend. The same strength that ran through his blood clearly runs through your veins as well.

Yours Sincerely,

George Watkins

Meredith re-read the brief note twice more thoughtfully. It struck her as a bad omen that George would decide to leave town on the exact same day she was planning to depart for Rome. All she could do was hope he was alright and that she hadn't put him in any immediate danger.

Convincing herself that he was fine, she picked up the ring from the desk. It was made of high quality silver, barely faded by time. Intricately carved into the ring was a symbol of a raven in profile against a sliver of a moon. A single blood red garnet served as the eye of the raven; an ominous crimson speck that sparkled darkly in the light. The clarity of the etching proved the artistry and care that had gone into the ring's creation.

It was both beautiful and frightening.

Meredith suppressed a shudder as she thought of the heavy price her grandfather had paid for the tiny circlet resting on her palm. It was a miniscule icon for all that had been lost: precious years spent in fear, his daughter's life, and even his sanity. Even after all that his debt still wasn't paid.

Oddly enough it didn't feel like a burden that this responsibility had been left to her. All her life she'd done nothing but watch. It was easier to let the adults take charge. Meredith simply had to remain silent and not ask any questions. It had all seemed so easy and uncomplicated as a child.

Now, though, she could look back and see how much adopting this lifestyle had cost her. It had permeated her being until watching in silence had become a key part of her nature.

So it felt good to finally act; to do _something _instead of simply watching. Even if that something was incredibly dangerous and potentially deadly.

Tucking the ring into her pocket, Meredith sat down in the chair and flipped through the file George had left behind. There wasn't much, but it was more than she'd had to go on before. The folder included an approximate—and highly theorized George stressed several times in the margins—history of the Dark Veritas, places in the world they were thought to reside, and how they were thought to view the human race.

Meredith read through the latter category with chills creeping up her spine. Humans were considered an inferior species to the Dark Veritas, useful only for food, slavery, or entertainment. She shuddered to think of what "entertainment" might encompass.

Time slipped by quickly as she poured over everything and when she glanced at her watch she saw it was only an hour and a half until her flight left. Dumping everything back into the envelope, she hurried out to her car. She'd told her parents that she had some last minute errands to run during the morning so she'd meet them at the airport to say their goodbyes. Bonnie, Matt, and Caroline had thrown her a bon voyage party the night before.

Meredith just managed to make it to the airport on time. Both her parents had tears in their eyes as they said their farewells at the gate. All her misgivings towards her father melted away as she realized this might very well be the last time she ever saw him again. Instead of anger, what she mostly felt was guilt.

With her grandfather gone, Meredith was the only family her father had left. If anything were to happen to her she knew her father would be devastated. Unfortunately the Dark Veritas hadn't left her much choice in the matter.

"I love you," she whispered as she hugged her father tightly. There was surprise written clearly on his face as he stepped back. In all the years he'd known his daughter she'd never been overly forthcoming with displays or statements of affection.

"I love you too, Sweetheart." Henry swept his daughter into one last hug, the smell of his aftershave and wool sweater instantly making her homesick before she'd even left Fell's Church. "Give us a call as soon as you arrive."

"I will," Meredith promised, hitching her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder. After handing over her boarding pass to the flight attendant, she turned and waved. Then she was entering the ramp-way that connected to the plane and her parents disappeared from sight.

She was truly on her own now.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As the plane descended below the clouds, Meredith gazed out eagerly from the narrow window she sat beside. Despite the fact that she technically had a purpose in Rome, she couldn't help feeling excited. It wasn't everyday that she was able to visit the capital of Italy after all. Rome! She could hardly believe it. As a teenager, she'd always felt a strong desire to visit the birthplace of the Renaissance. Her family had never been able to afford it and the dream had faded—until now.

The city sprawled out below her, rolling hills covered in rich, vibrant greenery or adorned with cream colored villas. From this height it was difficult to pick out any of the city's famous architecture; you didn't have to be close up, though, to tell it was quaint and beautiful. Ancient and modern blended into one.

Meredith could hardly wait to explore the Coliseum, the Baths of Caracalla, the Arch of Constantine, all of the squares—then she recalled what she was truly in Rome for.

With a heavy sigh, she sat back in her seat. Playing tourist would have to wait until she'd dealt with the more pressing business at hand. First and foremost was the task of introducing "Madeline" to the more affluent society within the city. Establishing her new alias would involve mainly parties, balls, and other such events.

Later there might be time to sneak in some sight-seeing, but for now Meredith needed to stick to her cover. She'd decided it was safest to introduce Madeline as a self-absorbed and light-headed girl who was interested only in modern frivolities. History, especially ancient history, would be the last topic that would interest the young heiress.

It wasn't going to be an easy ruse to maintain; appearing vivacious and sociable were not traits Meredith displayed on a regular basis. Yet she knew that the Dark Veritas were less likely to suspect someone who appeared inane of malicious intent. While it would pain Meredith to act stupid, it might also be the very thing that saved her life.

Fortunately she even had the perfect ruse for introducing Madeline to Roman society using a public forum. The groundskeeper who maintained her grandfather's villa knew very little about her family beyond her grandfather's name. He wasn't the least bit phased when Meredith had introduced herself over the phone as the granddaughter of John Forsythe, "Madeline Dubois".

The only problem, he'd informed her, was that it would take awhile to prepare the villa for her since it had been vacant for such a long time. Rooms had to be aired out, fresh linens ordered, and so on.

Unwittingly he'd given Meredith the perfect excuse as to why her alter ego would need to stay at a hotel for a couple weeks. Meredith had told the groundskeeper she would be fine with waiting until late August to occupy the villa. Then she'd proceeded to book her flight for the middle of the month instead.

With the vast amount of wealth her grandfather had left her, Meredith could easily afford a hotel for a couple of weeks. Not just any hotel would do, of course. To ensure the members of Rome's wealthy elite knew there was fresh money in town she'd even selected the Grand Hotel Plaza to stay at.

The travel agent Meredith had spoken to when booking her trip—who became _very_ eager to take her on as a client when she'd explained her travel plans—had highly recommended it. Sounding like a pitchman for the hotel, he claimed it couldn't be beat for luxury, service, and social events. "The hub of Roman society" had been mentioned several times in the span of a single conversation.

The Plaza was one of the most prestigious five-star hotels in Rome. From the pictures on their website Meredith could see where they got they're rating. There were marble columns and floors, beautiful terraces bathed in sunlight, and even a ballroom. It definitely was not your average Holiday Inn—and was only going to cost her four-hundred dollars a night.

Meredith had initially balked at such a high price. Just for a place to sleep!

Yet she knew that "Madeline" would settle for nothing less than the best. The Plaza was also the ideal place to meet people who were well-connected and wealthy. Lavish parties were held there on a daily basis or so the receptionist had informed her. Celebrities and even royalty often frequented the hotel.

With any luck—not the kind she wanted on her side all the time of course—some of the famous faces that frequented the Plaza and Rome's high society would belong to the Dark Veritas. Meredith felt a combination of excitement and dread as she realized that she would soon find out.

XXXXXXXXX

It took Meredith less time than she'd anticipated to be invited to her first party. The day after she'd landed, and recovered from jet lag, had been spent shopping. After making careful study of the fashions she noticed other women wearing, she was able to put together a wardrobe worthy of an heiress.

Meredith noticed shopkeepers and customers alike eyeing her with interest when she'd visited several of the little boutiques near the Plaza. Much like her fair-haired best friend, she had no problem spending money on clothes. It was especially thrilling when you didn't have a budget. Hushed whispers had been ignited between two shop girls when "Madeline" had dropped several thousand dollars on lingerie without batting a lash.

"Might as well make it worthwhile if he gets that far, no?" Meredith had commented with a coy wink over her shoulder before she left.

The no-holds barred shopping spree, while costing her a pretty penny, had created just the right amount of mystery and intrigue for her new persona. Quite a few people gave her openly curious looks when Meredith entered the hotel restaurant the following afternoon. It was all part of her strategy to ensure Madeline made a splashy debut. Fortunately she'd studied from the Queen of Robert E. Lee; Elena had a special knack for knowing how to create a scene.

Several people approached her table to introduce themselves. Rather than being difficult, as she'd initially thought, Meredith found it surprisingly easy to slip into the shoes of her alter ego. She simply had to be everything she typically wasn't: bubbly, flirtatious, and full of insipid comments.

The only painful part came from fighting back the sarcastic wit her friends had always known her for. It was especially difficult amongst a crowd of wealthy people too full of their own sense of self-importance. Every time a clever comment occurred to her, Meredith had to swallow it and a piece of her pride.

Bonnie's jaw would have dropped to see the typically calm and aloof Meredith Sulez giggling, teasing, and asking silly questions. That was another part of why she'd decided not to involve her friends in her little European adventure. Extreme danger aside, it was simply easier to behave foolishly in front of no one who knew her.

One of the couples who approached her table was Lord and Lady Bradford. They were from Kent and touring throughout Europe for the Summer and Fall. Meredith was bored after listening to them talk about their endless travels for nearly two hours, but managed to feign interest. Fortunately it even paid off.

"What are you doing tonight, Madeline?" Vivienne Bradford asked.

"I didn't have any official plans," Meredith replied. "I only arrived two days ago."

"Then you'll have to be our guest tonight," Charles Bradford chimed in. "We're hosting a cocktail party in the hotel ballroom. It'll be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone."

Meredith had no idea who "everyone" might be, but she hoped he meant the upper class of Roman society. "Sounds great," she said eagerly. "What time should I be there?"

"The party technically begins at seven, but usually gets fun around nine. That's usually when everyone's had a drink or two. So if you show up around then that should be perfect. We'll make the rounds of introductions so you get to know some people."

It was ten minutes to nine when Meredith arrived for the party. She did her best not to gape openly at the lavishly decorated ballroom, but found herself feeling distinctly like a small-town girl in the big city. It was impossible not to feel overwhelmed by so much glitz and glam.

The ballroom was beautiful, held erect by tall marble columns with a ceiling that contained dozens of stained glass skylights. There was almost an equal amount of chandeliers that ornamented the ceiling; the golden lighting played off the kaleidoscope of colors in the skylights in a captivating fashion. Velvet tapestries of the darkest burgundy matched the silk tablecloths. With the dark colors and candelabras that surrounded the perimeter of the ballroom the ambiance was one of gothic elegance.

An orchestra in black and white was playing classical music in the corner. Several couples, in some of the fanciest clothing Meredith had ever seen, swayed gracefully on the half of the ballroom that had been designated for dancing. She had no doubts that a diamond choker one of the women wore could have bought enough food for a family in Ethiopia to last a year.

Feigning as though she attended parties like this every day, Meredith began to wander along the many tables laden with food. There was barely a square inch of space that wasn't taken up by a dish or tray of some sort. She assumed an expression of bored indifference and helped herself to a shrimp. Thankfully it wasn't long before the hostess tracked her down.

"Madeline, there you are."

Turning around, Meredith saw that Vivienne was wearing a navy blue gown that was low in the front and even lower in the back. It would have been an attractive dress except for a gaudy, enormous faux-rose that perched on one shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled into a simple chignon. Whatever her hair lacked in flashiness, though, she more than made up for with an incredible amount of jewelry. Sapphires and diamonds gleamed in her ears, at her neck, and even on both wrists.

The older woman gave a brief nod of approval to Meredith's long and strapless emerald green evening dress. Her dark hair was held back in a twist secured with a comb decorated with emeralds. _Real_ emeralds. She'd initially hesitated at the extravagant price, but figured this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"I have so many people to introduce you to," Vivenne said, slipping her arm through Meredith's. Her tone was low and conspiratorial, as though they'd been the best of friends forever. "Have you heard about the prince staying here?"

"A prince?" Meredith responded with an enthusiastic gasp. "No, not yet. Should I have heard something?" She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively and they shared a laugh.

God kill me, she thought to herself with an inward cringe.

"I'll make sure to introduce you, don't worry. He's Italian and a credit to his country. I'd leave Charles in a heartbeat if he ever wanted to sweep me off my feet."

The warning bells should have been going off for Meredith right then and there, she would realize later. An Italian prince who was incredibly good-looking—it should have been obvious.

Yet Meredith remained clueless as Vivienne began to introduce her to a whirlwind of people. Names and faces soon became an incomprehensible blur. She tried to pay more attention, though, when her newfound friend became very excited as they approached a man who had his back turned to them.

A man with dark hair.

Barely containing her giddiness, Vivienne began to make the introductions. "Prince Damien, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine who's been dying to meet you." She flashed an eager smile at Meredith who forced herself to return the gesture. Truth be told, her face was starting to hurt from smiling so much.

The dark head began to turn around to face them. Meredith felt her blood run cold as the bottom dropped out of her neatly fictionalized world. It couldn't be!

At the first instant of realization, Meredith figured she must be having a delusion of some sort. There was no way the fates could be _that_ cruel. As the man turned around to face them fully, though, her stomach sank and she knew there was no possible error. There was no mistaking those perfectly chiseled features and dark eyes most girls would willingly drown themselves in. Even the skylights couldn't rival the rainbow of colors that flitted playfully across his ebony hair like the feathers of a raven.

The man was uniquely and unmistakably Damon Salvatore.


	8. Chapter 8

My humble apologizes for any confusion about chapters. I decided to merge a couple chapters, only to wind up deleting one entirely lol So I wound up having to rewrite it which turned out okay 'cuz I liked the way a certain scene came out better. And also managed to get out Chapter 8 at the same time so yay for that D Thank you very much to everyone who has read and reviewed the story so far, thanks for sticking with me even when I mess things up. Hope you guys enjoy an entire chapter of Damon, there will be plenty more to come not to worry ;) For those of us who aren't French savvy there's a translation of what Meredith and Damon say to eachother at the end.

Chapter 8

The only comfort Meredith was able to derive from the moment was that Damon seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He glanced between her and Vivienne with a distinctly bemused expression. Fortunately the smitten hostess didn't notice and plowed forward with her introductions.

"Prince Damien, I'd like to introduce you to meet Madeline Dubois. He's originally from Florence, but has graciously decided to spend his summer here. Madeline is from Paris where her father owns a shipping fleet."

The world seemed to pause for an infinite amount of heartbeats as Damon attempted to process this. His gaze lingered on Meredith questioningly, but there was nothing she could do except wait and see how he reacted. At least his usual poker face had settled into place; she never thought she would be grateful for that. It gave her a spark of hope that he might not blow her cover.

"It's a pleasure to meet you...Madeline," Damon said smoothly, bowing at the waist. Meredith let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding until he spoke. Relief was what she mostly felt at that moment, but she also remained wary.

Just because the wolf chose not to bite for the time being didn't mean that he could be trusted.

Realizing she hadn't responded right away, Meredith extended a hand as was custom. "The pleasure's all mine," she responded as he brought her hand to his lips. They were cool and lingered longer than was necessary, but she knew it would only raise suspicion if she were to yank her hand back.

"Comment vous ont le fait d'apprécier été votre temps à Rome?" he asked, suddenly switching the language of the conversation. "La ville est tout à fait à couper le souffle cette fois de l'année."

Eyes like dark silk flashed at her challengingly and Meredith knew exactly what he was doing. While he hadn't given away her true identity, he was seeing if she would blow her own cover by not being able to speak French. Irate fury nearly overwhelmed her as she struggled against the urge to glare at him.

Meredith would never have chosen the nationality of a country whose language she didn't speak. The insinuation was an insult to both her common sense and intelligence.

It gave her an immense amount of satisfaction to meet his gaze dead on and reply with complete confidence. "Je crois que je suis tombé amoureux de la ville déjà. La France est belle et mon père m'appellerait blasphématoire, mais je crois que Rome est beaucoup plus jolie." She couldn't help flashing him a triumphant smile.

Damon smirked, but gave a slight nod to concede her minor victory—only to catch her abruptly off-guard by turning to Vivienne. "Would you mind terribly if I stole your lovely friend for a dance, Mrs. Bradford?"

"Of course not," Vivienne said, even though her pale blue eyes nearly turned green with jealousy. "You two have fun."

Meredith was left with no choice except to take Damon's proffered hand. Dancing was the last thing she wanted to do with him. A well-aimed knee in a vulnerable area and a one-way ticket back to whatever corner of Hades he'd crawled out of seemed much more preferable.

Instead she put on a smile and did her best to make it seem like she was delighted to be dancing with a prince. Damon placed a hand on her waist, leading her into a waltz. The emerald skirts of her dress swished like the absently flicked tail of a mermaid as they moved to the music. This close his ethereal beauty was impossible to ignore. Even his movements, while flawless and graceful, held a hint of predatory stealth.

How anyone could have possibly mistaken him for human was beyond Meredith.

"So you decided to take me up on my offer after all," he said mockingly. "I hope the French bit wasn't for my benefit, though. Unless, of course, this little role play involves a maid's uniform and a feather duster..."

Meredith glanced around carefully to ensure they were out of earshot before responding. Angry sparks danced dangerously in her eyes as she managed to keep smiling through sheer force of will. "You're disgusting," she whispered at him furiously. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "This is my native country, even if I'm not exactly on any registered voter lists. I'd say that gives me more of a right to ask you what you're doing here, Miss _Dubois_?"

"It's really none of your business, thank you," Meredith said coolly.

On one hand, she supposed she should be grateful to Damon for not exposing her true identity. If he'd done that, everything she'd so painstakingly arranged would have come crashing down. The chance to destroy the Dark Veritas would be over before it had even begun. Meredith should have felt as though he'd done her a favor by keeping her secret.

Instead she had the distinct impression of being the mouse, spared by the cat for the time-being because he felt an urge to amuse himself.

"What's up with the whole prince routine?" she shot back in an attempt to try and misdirect him.

Damon smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "Sometimes it amuses me to pretend to be one of the living again. I'm guilty of being similar to my little brother in that regard, I suppose. Instead of 'high school student', though, I like to go for something with a bit more grandeur."

"You're pretending to be an Italian prince in an Italian city?" Meredith asked sardonically, marveling at his nerve. "What if someone catches on that there isn't a 'Prince Damien' in the royal family?"

"Then he vanishes overnight, never to be seen again. I'm very skilled at disappearing into the shadows for awhile if necessary. Faking humanity does have its advantages, though."

"Let me guess, your reasons don't involve sunshine and lollipops?"

"Not quite. I was thinking more about all the beautiful women I've had the pleasure of meeting."

"Don't you mean 'victims'?" Meredith replied sweetly. "I'm sure if they knew you were taking them back to your place for an involuntary blood transfusion they wouldn't be quite so willing."

They moved slowly to a soft, melodic concerto that showed no signs of ending any time soon. Meredith normally loved the classics, but in this particular instance she found herself loathing their length. Why were there no bloody classical pieces shorter than ten minutes? She fumed to herself. As it was she was stuck in Damon's arms and forced to act pleased to be there.

"So we both know why I'm pretending to be someone else. What's your excuse?" he asked. "Did you get bored with your dull suburban life?"

Meredith met his gaze contemptuously. It wasn't easy to stare back into those infinitely dark eyes without finding yourself falling into them entirely. They were beautiful and enticing, a cobalt flame dancing in their depths that invited surrender. If all the devils that knocked on your door had eyes like his, she mused thoughtfully, virgin sacrifices would definitely come swiftly back into fashion.

Auspiciously—she wasn't sure how exactly but was eternally grateful—Meredith was immune to the charisma that left every other female a swooning fool. Maybe she just had a natural gift for identifying the snake hidden behind a heart-breaking façade.

"If you must know the truth," Meredith said, her expression completely serious, "I'm here on a top secret mission. If it wasn't a matter of national security I'd definitely tell you all about it—really, I swear."

Damon did not seem amused by her mockery. "You know," he replied in a threatening purr, "I could easily find out for myself." The hand on her waist rose to her face under the pretense of caressing her cheek affectionately. Meredith resisted the urge to flinch as two of his fingers brushed her temple meaningfully.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that mind-rape is not the best way to get the girl," Meredith said acerbically, "or is that a concept that's a century too new for you?"

An amused smirk lifted the corner of Damon's highly sensual mouth. "You have a sharp tongue on you, dear Madeline. Maybe you should be careful on whom you use it…"

"I'm not afraid of you," she replied boldly. "You might intimidate some people, but I'm not one of them."

"So, you wouldn't mind if I went over and had a chat with Vivienne then? Told her all about who you really are and where you really come from."

Meredith ground her teeth, her forced smile faltering for a moment. Mentally cursing, she realized that he had her cornered. If Damon gave away her true identity before "Madeline" had even established herself in society, her entire charade would be jeopardized. She might as well just pack up her bags tonight and go home. There was no way she could allow that to happen. Thankfully she had the same ace up her sleeve that Damon was attempting to play against her.

"How about we make a deal? You don't give my secret and I won't give away yours."

"Ah, that would be an enticing offer, except for the fact that my make-believe doesn't really matter to me. Playing the part of a prince is nothing more than a fun diversion. I get the impression that your little act isn't quite as meaningless as mine, though. So with more at stake for yourself, it's difficult to 'make a deal', as you put it, without there being something to my advantage."

"What would you want?" Meredith asked tersely.

"At the moment…nothing." The smile Damon gave her was gracious, but his obsidian eyes held only mischief. "I'll pretend you are exactly who you say. Maybe later I'll think of some way you can repay me for doing you a favor."

Fuming inwardly, Meredith tried desperately to think of some dismissive retort. Nothing came to her. The last thing she needed on top of everything else she was trying to accomplish was to have to worry what Damon would do. All she could do was hope that he would keep his word—and purposefully avoid any thoughts of what "repayment" might encompass.

Mercifully, the final notes of the song they were dancing to, dwindled to an end. Meredith extracted herself from Damon's grasp, but he maintained his hold on her hand. When she opened her mouth to demand that he release her, he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I'm supposed to accompany you off the dance floor," he said. "It would look odd if I didn't. You should also try not looking quite so miserable. After all, you did just share a dance with a prince."

Meredith reassumed her smile, even though what she really wanted to do was ground the heel of an emerald green pump into his foot. "You're really enjoying yourself aren't you?" she muttered resentfully as they left the dance floor. Damon escorted her back to where Vivienne stood, finally releasing her hand. Her flesh still burned from his touch.

"Thank you very much for the dance, your highness," she managed politely.

Damon bowed, catching her eye in a significant look that Meredith did her best to ignore. "I'd love to spend the rest of the evening with you lovely ladies, but unfortunately I have some other matters to attend to. It was a pleasure to meet you, Madeline. I'm sure we'll run into each other again very soon."

There was no mistaking the implied meaning of his words. Meredith watched him walk away, ruing the day that she had ever had the misfortune of meeting Damon Salvatore. For the time being, she was just was grateful that he was gone. Ideally she'd like to avoid him entirely for the next two weeks, but Meredith decided she would be happy to simply not see him again for the rest of the night.

XXXXXXXXXX

Damon watched her inconspicuously for the remainder of the evening; the raven-haired beauty with a secret she desperately didn't want to reveal. How perfect. Just when he was beginning to bore of playing the part of a prince, along came one of the denizens of Fell's Church to liven things up. It was a pity it wasn't Elena herself or her red-headed friend whose blood he'd nearly tasted, but he wasn't entirely disappointed.

All three of the girls were enticing in their own unique ways. Elena possessed that fair-haired beauty that no man could resist. Bonnie was sweet prettiness personified, with her wide eyes and child-like manner. And then there was Meredith, with her exotic good-looks. Damon's first impression of her had been of a medieval Spanish princess dumped into the mediocrity of modern times.

There was only one reason why he hadn't bothered attempting to use his charm on Meredith. When Damon had arrived in Fell's Church, he'd glanced into each girl's mind to assess who would be easiest to bend to his whim. Both Elena and Bonnie were vulnerable; Bonnie more so than Elena. The little pixie proved to be more than just sugared innocence, clinging to the notion that it would be "romantic" to die young. Once he'd uncovered this bit of knowledge, he knew seducing Bonnie would be as effortless as breathing.

Meredith's mind, on the other hand, was sharper, jagged and harder than the other two girls. It was like granite, impenetrable walls of rock that couldn't be scaled without considerable effort. With one glimpse Damon knew instantly that simple charm wouldn't work on someone like Meredith Sulez. She was essentially immune to his greatest weapon against the fairer sex.

So Damon had chosen to leave Meredith alone during his stay in Fell's Church. It soon became obvious that she wasn't overly fond of him anyways. Leaving each other alone had seemed like an ideal arrangement for both of them.

Now, all of a sudden, the last person he'd expected to see from Fell's Church showed up in Rome pretending to be someone she wasn't. How interesting and intriguing. During their dance, he'd thought several times about simply reaching into Meredith's mind to pluck out the truth. In the end, though, he'd decided against it.

That would ruin all the fun.

While Damon hadn't delved deeply into Meredith's mind, he had cheated a little by reading her surface thoughts. It took a minor amount of effort for him to do so. Humans were constantly thinking about whatever was bothering them the most; round and round their worries went like a hamster on a wheel. For Damon, picking up what was most predominantly on a human's mind took all the effort of tuning into a particular radio station. A couple flicks of a mental dial and he was able to read them as clearly as a radio broadcast.

Throughout the course of their dance, Meredith's thoughts had initially consisted of how much she loathed him—until other worries had begun to float to the foremost of her mind as well. One thought in particular had especially tweaked Damon's interest. It was a mystery he spent the rest of the evening puzzling over.

How in the hell did a small town girl from Virginia think it was her duty to destroy the Dark Veritas?

Damon (French) : How have you been enjoying your time in Rome? The city is so breath-taking this time of year.

Meredith (French) : I think I've fallen in love with the city already. France is beautiful and my father would call me blasphemous, but I think Rome is much prettier.


	9. Chapter 9

_I am so, so, so sorry this took so long to get up. August and September were crazy months with job issues, relationship issues, family visits, and all that fun stuff. The good news is that everything has (mostly) mellowed out. I am taking an English class from now until December so updates won't be super frequent, but they definitely shouldn't take as long as this. Thank you very much to everyone who has read, enjoyed, and reviewed. This chapter was a blast to write when I found the time and longer than the others so you get more bang for your buck. Y'all are paying me for this, right? ;)_

Chapter 9

Meredith gazed out the window of the taxi she'd hailed as it headed back to the Plaza. In spite of it being close to three in the morning, there were still people wandering along the narrow streets. Over-arcing street lamps cast them in a golden glow. Maybe it was the warm summer evenings or the many charms of the city, but everyone—tourists and locals alike—put off going inside until they absolutely had to. There definitely wasn't a lack of restaurants and cafes to accommodate them; the majority didn't shut their doors until midnight at the earliest.

How different Rome was compared to back home. In Fell's Church the streets were typically deserted by eleven, even on weekends. It wasn't exactly a thriving metropolis of culture and art. For anything resembling a movie theatre or bowling alley you had to drive at least an hour outside of town.

It surprised Meredith when she first realized she actually missed Fell's Church. Everyone in their group had made jeering fun of their small town where nothing ever happened (until a certain young man had come along, of course). Fell's Church was the type of place teenagers made vows to escape from. Meredith herself had sworn that she couldn't wait to go to Duke immediately after graduation. So she could finally be free to live life instead of watching everyone else live theirs.

At least in her barely-a-blip-on-the-map town she'd felt accepted. No one had questioned or challenged Meredith's detached coolness. They grew up with her sarcastic wit and calm veneer, simply assuming that was how she was. Bonnie and Elena were the only one's who had ever seen the side of her when that perfect control had faltered.

In Rome, Meredith was a complete stranger, not only to others, but sometimes even to herself. She'd begun to discover that sometimes the only way to slip into her fabricated persona was to simply delve into it completely. Not trying to think about it too much or act, but simply _becoming_ a spoiled prima-donna. If she allowed herself to take over rather than the part it started to seem too rehearsed. While it was unnerving to allow "Madeline" to run the show, like a multiple personality rearing it's ugly head, at least it appeared to be working so far.

That was the only thing going according to plan.

It was only her first week in Rome and already Meredith was beginning to realize the insurmountable odds stacked against her. She'd arrived confident and eager that she could do this, but lately she'd begun to have her doubts.

Nearly every night of the past week had been spent out with the Bradford's and their friends. Saturday hadn't even arrived yet and Meredith had already attended a ballet, an art opening, and another cocktail party at the villa of someone Charles knew. There appeared to be a trend when it came to living like the privileged. Sleep in late, eat brunch—breakfast was _so_ distastefully early as Vivienne put it—then get ready for whatever that evening's entertainment was.

Occasionally, if there was time amidst such a hectic schedule, they might gather for drinks on one of the hotel terraces. Meredith didn't really see the point of those get-togethers, though, since none of the ladies seemed to actually enjoy the sun. They wore giant hats, sunglasses, and commiserated about the hazard of UVA rays while lathering on sun screen.

Meredith had been certain at first that there was no way anyone in the Bradford's inner circle could possibly be a vampire. They all seemed so boring and normal, a far cry from the intrigue and excitement that fairly crackled in the air whenever Stefan and Damon were around. The more time she spent amidst the upper class, however, the more she began to question her original assessment. As evening after evening progressed, each one spent surrounded by a throng of faces, she'd begun to realize there wasn't one she could have definitively pin-pointed as a vampire.

What did she _really_ know about vampires? Meredith tapped her fingers against the armrest as she tried to recall. There were certain rules governing their activities, of course. They couldn't enter a building unless first invited or maintain exposure to sunlight without some sort of special ring. And there was some type of plant that kept them from manipulating your thoughts and dreams. Meredith struggled to remember the name. Something like 'vermouth', except that was wine, or 'verve'…Vervain! That was it.

The triumph she felt at recalling the proper name quickly faded as she realized nothing in her limited knowledge of vampires could possibly help her identify one. With most of the events she'd been attending held in the evening and rings they could wear so they could go out during the day, sunlight was out as a way to detect them. Knowing about Vervain was equally useless since it was a vampire repellant. What was she supposed to do, bottle it like a perfume and see who didn't come near her?

Besides aversions to sunlight and Vervain, the only other distinguishing quality about vampires she was aware of was that they were typically beautiful. Ethereal and stunning, paintings of perfection come to startling life. Even Katherine and Klaus—both clearly deranged—had possessed that physical magnificence that was arresting to behold.

If she were still in Fell's Church Meredith could have identified a vampire in a cinch. There weren't many in a town of three-thousand who fit the profile of "stunningly gorgeous". In Rome things were more challenging.

In Rome there were super models, royalty, and those who could afford plastic surgery.

"Miss, we're here."

Meredith had been so lost in thought that she hadn't even realized the cab had come to a halt. Looking up, she blinked in surprise when she saw they were parked in front of the Plaza. "Oh yes, thank you," she said, hastily groping in her purse for a bill which happened to be a fifty.

"Thank you very much," the driver said eagerly when she handed him the money without indicating she wanted any change. Meredith hadn't mentally done the math, but it must have been a generous tip for he thanked her several more times as she exited the cab.

The heels of Meredith's Manolo shoes echoed loudly in the marble foyer as she crossed to the elevators. She couldn't wait to be rid of them. They were the prettiest pair of torture devices she'd ever seen granted, elegant and strappy, but they were killing her feet. Why did everything fashionable always take so long to break in?

Besides the shoes, Meredith was wearing a royal purple Chanel dress, strapless with an empire waist, a crystal-cut diamond necklace, and a bracelet adorned with sparkling amethysts. Maintaining the ruse of an heiress was rapidly depleting her trust fund.

Meredith let out a sigh of relief when she was in the solitude of her hotel room. The three-thousand dollar high heels were the first thing to go, kicked off as she wandered into the living room. Her jewelry was unceremoniously dropped on top of the fireplace mental. Just as she had the zipper of her dress all the way undone, intending to slip out of it and into a fluffy robe, her eyes suddenly adjusted to the dark—enough to realize she wasn't alone.

A figure cloaked in darkness sat in the chair nearest to the glass doors that led to the balcony. Saffron moonlight streaming through the glass allowed her to make out eyes that gleamed like polished ebony. White teeth flashed at her from the shadows.

"Don't stop on my behalf." The grin grew wider, making Damon look like a hungry wolf. "I was just beginning to enjoy the show."

The only response Meredith gave at first was doing the zipper back up on her dress and turning on the nearest lamp. There was something very disconcerting about being alone in the dark with Damon. Especially with those eyes watching you; they reminded her of a shark's. They glittered as though there ought to be something enticing in their depths, until you got close enough to realize there was only the abyss of a hungry predator.

"What—"

"In the hell am I doing here?" He concluded for her. Damon made a 'tsking' noise of disappointment. "You really need to come up with a new opening line, dear Meredith. Yours are becoming rather predictable."

With no one around to pretend for, Meredith glared at him freely. "Why is there never any white ash wood around when you _really_ need it?" she muttered, loud enough for Damon to hear. "How did you get in here?"

"Through those doors."

He gestured absently to the balcony doors, one of which she noticed was slightly ajar.

"I thought you couldn't enter somewhere unless first invited. In fact, I was kind of counting on it."

"Oh, yes, that pesky little glitch to being undead." The corner of his mouth curled in distaste. "Hotel rooms are different for some reason. I have several theories, but I think it mainly comes down to there being an implied invitation with hotels. These walls aren't really meant for permanent human habitation so the regular rules of vampirism don't apply."

"How fascinating," Meredith said drolly. "I'll be sure to add that to my list of things that really suck about the undead—besides the obvious, of course. So you can enter my room any time you want…Great. What other good news have you come to bring me?"

It felt good to speak to Damon with sarcasm and derision—Meredith's greatest weapons when faced with an unpleasant situation. Seeing him at the party a week ago had admittedly thrown her. She hadn't been able to thoroughly channel all of the contempt she felt for Damon Salvatore. Tonight was different because she'd known he would be back. To think otherwise would have been imprudent.

Speaking to him contemptuously also helped keep her focused. She wasn't afraid of him per se, but he was volatile and unpredictable. Even simply sitting in a chair he managed to look lazy yet alert. It was a posture that had been perfected over centuries of evolution by felines and other hunting animals—the illusion of relaxed stillness even as they prepared to strike.

"Only that I think we might be able to help each other," Damon replied in a voice that was honeyed silk. The soft sound slid over her skin, leaving behind shivers of apprehension.

Covering her unease, Meredith let out a sharp, doubtful laugh. "What could _you_ possibly help me with?"

"What about the Dark Veritas?" he returned casually.

Hooded eyes studied her intently as Meredith froze, wondering how much Damon knew. Possibly everything…What did it mean if he did?

Meredith mulled that probability over as she looked back at him balefully. Even if Damon did know everything, that still didn't give him anymore dirt on her than he already had. No, he had undoubtedly returned for more nefarious reasons than mere blackmail. She would have liked to think his interests extended from nothing more than bored curiosity. That would have only been deluding herself, however. Damon didn't do anything unless there was some way for him to benefit from it.

An idea suddenly popped into Meredith's head, one she couldn't believe hadn't occurred to her earlier. There might be something she could gain out of this situation; a silver lining to the dark cloud looming over her head. Maybe Damon _could_ help her after all.

He was a vampire. There was a strong likelihood that he would know something about the Dark Veritas. More than George's valiant efforts at research had produced anyhow. The tricky part came in trying to extract that knowledge from Damon without giving away how eagerly she wanted it.

Owing Damon a favor was already one too many.

"What do you know about them?" Meredith asked, proceeding cautiously.

"Enough," he replied, so smugly and arrogantly that she wanted to hit him. "I know you want to join them."

"And why would I want that?"

"Because it's the only way you'll be able to destroy them. The only way to properly kill the beast is from within. It's where you'll do the most permanent, harmful damage."

"And you intend to help me with this?" Meredith frowned in doubt.

"Not entirely. When it comes to trying to destroy them you're on your own. I can, however, help you get in."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why would you help me?" Meredith repeated. She was automatically suspicious and on her guard. "You don't exactly strike me as the charitable type, prone to random acts of kindness. What's in this for you?"

"I helped save my brother from Klaus without some sort of incentive."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Stefan is your brother, naturally you felt compelled to help him. If he hadn't been involved I doubt you would have stepped back in to save any of our necks. Your conscience might be triggered unwillingly by family blood, but I'm betting it typically stays silent where complete strangers are concerned."

"Your insights into my character are most fascinating," Damon commented disdainfully. He leaned forward in his chair, meeting her gaze with an honesty she'd seldom seen him display. "I'll admit my interest in your plans isn't entirely innocent. I'm willing to help you because I want in."

"You want to join the Dark Veritas?" Meredith arched an eyebrow, surprised even though she knew she shouldn't have been. What was it George had said the Dark Veritas gave her grandfather? Money, power, women…Everything Damon could possibly want. "Why do you need me? You're already a vampire. What more does it take to qualify for a membership?"

"You really don't know a lot about the Dark Veritas, do you?" Damon replied. The look he gave her was probably meant to be one of pity, but from him it came across as contempt.

Meredith wished she could take back what she'd just uttered. Candidly admitting how little she knew about the Dark Veritas by asking too many questions had been foolish. If there was one thing she despised above all others it was looking stupid. And to do so in front of Damon was reprehensible. He was the sort who would instantly sense such weakness and exploit it to his advantage.

"I thought you came here to ask me a favor, not insult me," she said icily.

"A _mutual_ favor."

"Whatever. Why do you need me so you can join the Dark Veritas?"

"I don't really need you," Damon replied. "I could easily go persuade any other human, but I thought you might like to take advantage of the opportunity I'm offering."

"I doubt that."

"And why would that be?"

"If you could simply go convince any human on the street, I'm betting you would already belong to the Dark Veritas," Meredith reasoned. "Yet here you are, in my hotel room, wasting my time. Either be honest about why you need my help or get out."

The haughty, superior look vanished from Damon's face, replaced by one of extreme irritation. So it was possible to get under his skin after all, Meredith thought to herself gleefully. "What is your plan for infiltrating the Dark Veritas exactly?" he asked after a brief pause. His expression had returned to its usual indecipherable calmness.

"It's in progress."

"Really?" Damon smirked knowingly. "So you know what your options are then?"

Meredith hesitated, momentarily torn between her pride and her curiosity to know more about the Dark Veritas. The latter won out. "If we're going to be discussing vampire bedtime stories, I'm going to do so comfortably." Reaching up, she released her hair from the clip that had secured it in an elegant knot for the evening. The dusky silk weight of her hair cascaded to her shoulders in soft waves. Then she took a seat on the couch parallel to where Damon sat, stretching out her legs. A sigh of satisfied relief escaped her before she recalled who her present company was—as if she could possibly forget.

"Yet another night of carousing with the bland and boring?" Damon commented, eyeing her legs appreciatively.

Noticing where he was looking, Meredith drew her legs up on the couch, tucking them to the side and covering them with the skirt of her dress. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Your alter ego and I do happen to frequent the same social circle."

"Right, because you're not remotely the stalker type," Meredith said sarcastically, but she let the subject drop. Crossing her arms over her chest, she decided it was time to get back to the business at hand. "We were discussing my options. I know the Dark Veritas consider themselves to be superior to humans. My kind has limited purpose in their world except to accommodate the wants of their members. Food, slavery, and entertainment are our most common uses I believe."

"I'm impressed. So you do have some idea of what you're getting yourself into."

"I wouldn't be sitting here, considering what you have to offer otherwise," Meredith said, smiling slightly at the irony of the situation. "Are those my only options?"

"Yes, those are the only three ways mortals are accepted as part of the Dark Veritas."

If Damon was telling the truth that meant her grandfather's induction into the vampire cult had been a rare exception. _If_ being the key word. Meredith considered for a moment whether or not she thought Damon was being honest. Much to her own shock she realized she did. Despite occasionally being vague or ambiguous in how he answered direct questions, Damon had never proven himself to be a liar.

"Tell me more about each one," she prompted. "I suppose food is fairly self-explanatory."

"Yes. Those humans are captured and kept alive strictly for feeding purposes. Members are discouraged from draining them, but, from what I've heard, it's a common occurrence. Vampires, especially the elite, are low on will power."

Meredith ran a hand absently along her neck, swallowing hard. The notion of being nothing more than something to feast on was difficult to accept. Centuries of ingrained food-chain superiority rallied against the idea. Strong potential of death aside, Meredith was certain she wouldn't be able to willingly place herself in such a situation.

"Sounds…primitive. What about slavery?"

"You might live longer." Damon smiled, but it wasn't kind. "Slaves are responsible for serving all members of the Dark Veritas. They also maintain the cleanliness of their headquarters. The Dark Veritas are meticulous when it comes to being clean."

"Vampire OCD, now I've heard everything," Meredith murmured to herself. "So when you say serve I'm guessing that isn't limited to bringing them cocktails and doling out foot rubs?"

"That might be a part of it, if they're lucky. The Dark Veritas enjoy testing the slaves. If they can't meet their demands, they are punished—or put immediately to death. They can also be used as a food source so they may live longer than those humans used strictly for food, but probably not by much."

Meredith stared at him as he spoke, her horror mounting with every new revelation. "I am going to like the third option better than the first two, right?" she asked sharply.

"That all depends on how open-minded you are."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Making a steeple with his hands beneath his chin, Damon paused, appearing hesitant about how to begin. Meredith didn't take this as a good sign. "Part of the reason I was never allowed to join is because every member of the Dark Veritas is expected to have a human familiar of sorts. I've never really known why this is, but I was prevented from being accepted as a member because I didn't have one. You're supposed to have a certain bond with your familiar that leaves you more open and vulnerable than I felt comfortable with. There's a certain amount of trust inherent in such a relationship that I've never felt could be achieved with one of your kind." 

Meredith chose to ignore this obvious slight. "Yet you'd trust me?" she asked in disbelief.

"Only because I know you wouldn't expect to have the same degree of closeness as an official familiar. We can always fake that part."

"What kind of 'closeness'?" Her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"We'll get to that later." He waved a hand dismissively. "Let's start with the positives. These companions—"

"Oh, they're 'companions' now, are they?" Meredith cut him off. "At first they were 'familiars'."

"Right, these familiars," Damon continued without missing a beat, "belong to one vampire. No one else can interfere with them unless the vampire who owns the familiar allows it. That means they can't be bitten or even touched without permission. To do so is taboo and there is a harsh punishment dealt."

"That sounds mildly promising," she admitted grudgingly. "Now why don't you tell me exactly what these familiars—or companions or whatever—are for? You've used a lot of indistinct words to describe them without telling me anything comprehensive."

"I guess you have a right to know what you'd be getting yourself into…"

"You won't get my co-operation unless I do."

"I used the word 'companion' because that's part of their main role. Everywhere their master—the vampire who owns them—goes, so do they. Some vampires use mind powers to keep their familiars infatuated with them. Others don't have to. The prestige of being draped on the arm of someone powerful and beautiful, even if they're technically dead, is often enough."

"They're trophies?" Forgetting her ire momentarily, Meredith found herself intrigued. It was like getting a glimpse into the traditions of certain foreign cultures; repulsive yet fascinating.

"That's a part of their role. Most familiars are pampered and lavished upon by their masters. The more attractive the familiar, the better the vampire they belong to appears. Jealousy is common amongst masters when it comes to familiars. Masters never willingly give up their familiars, but they can be challenged for them."

Damon raked his gaze over her appraisingly. "For you they'd probably start a war."

Meredith wasn't sure whether to feel flattered—or like a piece of meat at the auction. "Thanks…I guess. So they're beauty pageant contestants, escorts, and…" The third word from George's report slid into place, completing the puzzle. Entertainment. Realization dawned on her so abruptly that she wasn't sure whether to laugh or gasp.

"They're _sex_ slaves," she whispered, appalled and dismayed.

"Well, not slaves exactly. Many of them quite enjoy their role. There can be many benefits to being a vampire's companion, in and out of the bedroom."

Damon spoke casually and conversationally, as though they were discussing the weather or plans for the weekend. "It's not like you'd actually have to do anything like that," he continued. "You'd only have to pretend as though you were infatuated with me. It's really the perfect scenario for both of us. I secure a place for myself in the Dark Veritas. You can investigate freely without having to worry about coming to any harm."

"No, no, and Hell no." Standing up instinctually, she was momentarily torn between anger and extreme embarrassment. Rage won out. "You actually thought I would be open to such an idea? Get out!" Meredith demanded, jerking her finger in the direction of the door. "I can't believe I actually considering using your 'help' for even five seconds."

Damon remained where he was sitting, appearing unperturbed by her anger. "This is really your best option, Meredith," he argued as though she weren't viewing the situation sensibly. "How else will you be able to infiltrate the Dark Veritas without being killed?"

"I'll figure something out. I'm sure I'll be better off than relying on you as my gigolo. Now _get_ _out_." She emphasized her command through clenched teeth.

"Fine." Damon rose from his chair. "And here I always thought you were the more practical, sensible one of the group."

Meredith had been heading in the direction of the door to make sure he left, but now she spun on him furiously. "Well, there's where you made your fatal mistake," she seethed irately. "You would need someone out of their mind to consider what you want. Did you really think you could just stroll in here, say 'Hey, Baby, want to be my Playboy playmate' and I'd say 'sure, that sounds super keen'? Did you even think this out at all?"

"Yes, I did actually," Damon replied. His tone and expression had become cold and detached once again. "I thought that you would be logical enough to see that this was your only viable option."

"Well, I'm sorry to have disappointed you." Every word dripped with sarcasm.

Following Damon to the door, she opened it and ushered him into the hallway. He paused in the doorway, turning to face her. This brought them essentially face-to-face. Meredith supposed it was a tactic meant to intimidate, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of stepping back or cringing. His eyes, pools of inky blackness against the flawless ivory of his skin, bore into hers. Steeling herself, she looked back without flinching or looking away. Damon smiled, raising his hand as though to caress her cheek as he'd done at the party the other night.

"What a pity you won't be my companion," he purred, low and seductive. "With you on my arm, we could rule the underworld of the Dark Veritas. The Persephone to my Hades…"

Meredith slapped his hand away. "Thanks, but I'm not particularly fond of pomegranates or jackasses," she snapped.

Damon chuckled in amusement. "If you change your mind, I'll be around."

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

Meredith shut the door in his face.


	10. Chapter 10

So...I suck. I'm hoping to redeem myself, however, by posting 2 chapters nearly back to back. I just have a little tweaking to do for Chapter 11 then I promise I'll be happy with it lol It's rough being a procrastinator and a perfectionist! I haven't given up on the story, I promise. I just needed some time to figure out the direction I wanted to go, but I think I have it all mapped out in my head now. There's no Damon in this chapter, but I can guarantee nearly all the subsequent chapters should feature him. I did have fun bringing Bonnie back, though =) She wasn't my favorite character in the books, but she is surprisingly enjoyable to write about. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

The sky was a collage of fiery orange, russet, and polished gold. Vast stretches of emerald green countryside spread out for miles around Meredith, broken up occasionally by brown patches of freshly ploughed fields. A series of windmills dotted the horizon; their blades turned lazily as they basked in the dying glow of the sunset. Below the grassy knoll where she was seated Meredith could see a…plantation?

Meredith knew she had to be dreaming. This didn't feel like any dream she'd ever had before, though. It felt more vivid and real than any dream she'd ever experienced. She was accustomed to dreams that were a patchwork of bits from everyday life, strung together by the subconscious in some bizarre fashion.

There was typically something happening in dreams too. Not this one. Everything around Meredith was quiet and still. Dreams were rarely still. They sucked you in and took you along for the ride.

Perplexed, Meredith concentrated on the property directly below her, the one that looked distinctly like a plantation right out of the old south. The house was a handsome white colonial supported by granite columns. Green shutters adorned the windows. For some odd reason it struck her as very familiar.

Meredith was beginning to have her suspicions about this dream.

They were confirmed when she happened to look down and noticed what she was wearing. Meredith groaned aloud. It was the most memorable dress from the movie, the one Scarlett had Mammy make from the curtains at Tara. Layers of sage green velvet with gold tassels, complete with the jaunty little hat.

Meredith had always scoffed at that part in the movie because there was no way that dress could have been whipped up out of curtains—there was suspension of disbelief and then there was utter ridiculousness. Yet now here she was, wearing that exact same dress.

This couldn't possibly be her dream, Meredith felt certain. She'd never had a "Gone with the Wind" dream, but she knew someone who confessed to them frequently…

As though thinking about her made her appear, Bonnie strolled out from behind a nearby oak tree. She looked the part of the quintessential Southern Belle in a light yellow gingham dress. The neck, sleeves, and hem were decorated with white lace. Bonnie's heart-shaped face peaked out from the matching bonnet, her red-gold spiral curls gleaming like liquid fire in the setting sun.

"Meredith!" Bonnie squealed in excitement when she spotted her. She rushed forward to greet her friend.

Meredith attempted to rise, but was thwarted by the weight of what had to be the world's heaviest dress. Sitting back down, she patted the grass beside her instead. "So you're the reason I'm wearing a corset and seventy-five pounds of velvet," she griped, but couldn't help smiling widely to see her friend.

"You look great if it's any consolation." Bonnie settled herself down on the grass, opening a white parasol Meredith hadn't noticed before and settling it over one shoulder.

"You do too. So…what am I doing in your dream pre tell?"

"I'm not so sure this is a dream exactly." Bonnie glanced down at her dress, then at Meredith's. "Okay, obviously parts definitely are. I'm mainly here to deliver a message, though."

"From who?"

"Who else?" Bonnie held her arms out to the sky helplessly. "The powers that be say jump and I ask them how high and can I get them a diet Coke on my way back down. I might as well face it…I'm their bitch."

Meredith couldn't help laughing. The expression of resigned defeat on Bonnie's face was priceless. "So what's the message?" she asked when she was able to compose herself.

"You're not going to like it."

"Your premonitions rarely bring happy tidings. I'm used to it."

"It's about Damon." Bonnie cringed, eyeing Meredith warily to see how she would react.

Meredith wasn't sure what Bonnie was expecting, but she remained calm. "Oh?" was all she said in response.

Playing with the hem of her dress, Bonnie cast her eyes downward. Taking a deep breath, she blurted it all out in a rush. "Damon was right about the other night. He is your only hope for getting into the Dark Veritas if you want to make it out alive. I wish there was any other option for your sake, Meredith, but the message I'm getting is very clear." She frowned, looking miserable, as though she'd betrayed her friend.

Meredith sighed, staring off into the distance for a long moment. "He's the man in black, isn't he?"

A look of surprise crossed Bonnie's face. "You do remember that part! I thought maybe you'd forgotten with everything else going on."

"No, I was just hoping you meant someone—anyone—else. Wait a minute—how do _you _remember everything you said? You normally go all Jason Bourne after your premonitions."

"Huh?" Bonnie stared at her blankly.

"You usually have amnesia after your premonitions," Meredith explained patiently. "You don't remember anything you said or did."

"Beats me," Bonnie said with a shrug. "I've given up on figuring out how this whole thing works. Now that you mention it, though, I do know everything about what your grandfather said and what you have to do. Yet when I'm awake I don't remember anything. Maybe it's a—what's that word when you know something without thinking about it?"

Only someone who'd known her nearly her entire life would have been able to decipher what Bonnie meant. "Subconscious?" Meredith offered.

"That's it! Maybe it's a subconscious thing. I'm aware of everything when I'm dreaming because I'm on a different mind wave…or something."

"Well, now that we've solved that mystery can we move on to bigger problems," Meredith drawled wryly. "Are you sure Damon is my only chance?"

Bonnie nodded in affirmation. "Positive."

"Can't the powers that be ever deliver any good news? Something like rainbows and puppies will help me get into the Dark Veritas—not an undead Casanova who has probably been to an actual blood orgy."

"He's not that bad," Bonnie protested feebly.

"Oh really?" Meredith began to tick Damon's less-than-desirable qualities off on her fingers. "He killed Mr. Tanner." Bonnie went to interject something, but Meredith cut her off because she knew what she was going to say. "Matt told me his whole self-defense theory, but I don't buy it. Damon can rip a tree out of the ground, but he can't fight off a middle-aged history teacher?" When Bonnie didn't respond, Meredith continued her list. "He tried to seduce Elena and wound up 'helping' turn her into a vampire. He has only his best interests at heart—if he even has one. And didn't your premonition also mention that he would happily betray me to the darkness with a smile and a bow?"

"Um, it might have been something like that…" Bonnie purposefully avoided meeting Meredith's unimpressed gaze.

"So then why on earth would I trust him?"

"Because he's your only option," Bonnie said with unusual pragmatism. Twilight was quickly beginning to replace the sunset and she seemed to take this as some sort of signal. "I have to go, Meredith, but please be careful. Don't get yourself killed because of your prejudice towards Damon. He just might surprise you." Bonnie smiled knowingly, as though she knew some secret Meredith wasn't privy to, but she didn't elaborate. Instead she climbed to her feet and leaned down to give Meredith a hug.

"Be careful," Bonnie repeated one more time before everything, the landscape, the dream, began to fade to black.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Meredith sat at the desk in the study that had belonged to her grandfather. Bright sunlight streamed through the bay window that provided a beautiful view of the back part of the estate. It certainly wasn't your average back yard: there was a fountain of a water nymph, nearly fluorescent lemon trees, and a pebbled pathway that led to an indoor swimming pool. Turquoise water sparkled enticingly behind the glass panes that housed the pool.

Meredith wasn't tempted by either the water or the view. All of her focus was on the sheets of paper on the desk in front of her. She glared at the blank paper, as though it were to blame for the words that would not come. Several balls of failed attempts lay on the carpet behind her. Her pen tapped impatiently against the desk.

Why could she not think of the right words to say to Damon?

Two weeks had passed since Meredith moved into the villa her grandfather left her. She still wasn't accustomed to how large and grand it was. The first time she'd seen it all she'd been able to do was stare initially, unable to believe that it was all really hers.

Meredith had been aware prior to moving in that a villa was fancier than your average house, but she hadn't expected something quite so lavish. For one person it seemed especially excessive.

The villa was made up of five bedrooms, all with adjoining full bathrooms, a library that was an offshoot of the study, a kitchen, and a dining room. There was also a grand entryway with a crystal chandelier and a stairway that spiraled up to the second floor. Every room was decorated uniquely, yet it all managed to tie-in to a central theme as was the skill of a superior interior decorator. There were touches of Ancient Rome and even Egypt in the art, tapestries, and furniture.

Along with getting accustomed to the house, Meredith also had to adjust to there being servants. A routine had already been established prior to her arrival. A gardener came twice a week to tend to the numerous flower beds and trees. The groundskeeper, Mr. Jenkins, took care of any other landscaping duties. The gardener and groundskeeper didn't surprise her when they started showing up. Meredith went out to chat with them and they explained what they did. It was the trio of maids that caught her most off guard.

Meredith was getting out of the shower one day—mercifully wearing a robe—only to find a woman she'd never seen before making her bed. The maids must have been told of her arrival because none of them seemed surprised to see her.

With such a large house it made sense that there would be people to clean it, but Meredith knew it would take her awhile to adapt to the idea. While not a slave master, Henry Sulez made sure his daughter didn't grow up spoiled and appointed her daily house chores to do. Meredith knew it would take awhile before she could see the maids at work without feeling guilty and lazy.

If only adjusting to having servants were the least of Meredith's worries. The message Bonnie had delivered in her dream on the first night she'd spent in her new home weighed most heavily on her mind.

Damon was her only option. The prince of darkness was her only gateway into a world of shadows and mystery.

The bitter irony of this knowledge was a hard pill for Meredith to swallow, but she realized later that she'd known the truth all along. Denial was a safe and comfortable refuge to hide behind, but her own logic would not allow her to stay secluded for long. Reason beat at the walls of her fortress of delusion so consistently after she'd repelled Damon from her hotel room so that Bonnie's message was simply the light breeze that brought it all crashing down.

That was why Meredith was seated at the desk, willing the words of an apology to come. She wasn't accustomed to being wrong. Amongst her group of friends, she was typically the one who provided the voice of reason. Now she was forced to not only say she was sorry to someone she detested, but to also ask for Damon's help. Meredith didn't have much experience with groveling, it wasn't her style.

Disgusted with the entire situation—especially her stubborn pride she was having difficulty swallowing—Meredith threw down the pen. Pushing away from the desk, she closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples with her fingertips, feeling a headache start to build up.

Keeping her eyes shut, Meredith leaned her head back against the cool leather, trying to relax. She was ordinarily calm and cool under pressure, a rock in even the most vicious tempest. Admittedly this wasn't your average stress test. It was one thing to be fighting against a supernatural force alongside your friends. She was alone in this, however, with her only potential ally someone she didn't trust.

This isn't about you, Meredith reminded herself sternly. This is about stopping whatever Kane has planned. When her grandfather spoke through Bonnie he'd said Kane intended the end of mankind. From any other source such a claim would have sounded ludicrous, but when it came to ghosts and vampires Meredith had learned not to dismiss things so quickly. Whatever Kane was planning had to be linked to her grandfather's research. She felt certain of this. How far along he was in implementing his plan was difficult to determine.

And there was only one way she would be able to find out.

Would it really be so horrible? Meredith wondered.

Allowing her mind to drift, Meredith saw herself as the prize on Damon's arm. In her mind's eye she saw herself draped in gleaming jewels and thick furs. She appeared cool and regal; a precious gem to be displayed in adoration. No one could keep their eyes off her. With Damon as her escort, they made a striking pair. His aristocratic good looks were the perfect complement to her exotic beauty.

Aren't you the modest one? Meredith chided herself, drawing back from her reverie. It surprised her how easily she was able to picture the whole scene. Perhaps some of the vanity she'd always teased Elena about had rubbed off on her.

In Fell's Church Meredith had been content in her role of sidekick. Elena was the star of Robert E. Lee, a fair-haired beacon of beauty that everyone gravitated towards. The boys desired her and the girls wanted to be her. Except Meredith. She hadn't wanted any of the attention or posturing that came with being Queen Bee. Attention led to curiosity and curiosity led to questions. As one of Elena's best friends, she discovered that she could safely stay out of the spotlight while still skirting the edges of popularity.

No one was truly interested in the second runner up at the beauty pageant after all.

That was it! Meredith's eyes flew open and she sat up in her chair, excitement coursing through her at her sudden epiphany. She _used_ to be second-in-command. Keeping her family's secrets necessitated that. All that had changed with her induction into the upper echelons of Rome. It wasn't that different from high school really; new social circle, same rules. It was all about who you knew, how many parties you were invited to, and what you wore. The only big change was Meredith's role in this new society.

As Madeline, Meredith was forced to step into that starring role she'd so dreaded in high school. There was no blending into the background and allowing someone else to shine. Upholding her heiress act meant purposefully drawing attention. The more focus she drew to Madeline, spoiled brat extraordinaire, the less likely the Dark Veritas were to think suspiciously of her when she was in their midst.

Madeline was the key to all her problems. Meredith couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before. Allowing her alter ego to take over had seemed like a distasteful necessity before, the only way to preserve her cover. Now it was starting to look more like her saving grace.

On her own Meredith probably wouldn't have been able to convey fondness for Damon. It wouldn't be a problem for Madeline, though; weren't heiresses infamously attracted to all the wrong sorts of men?

Picking up the pen eagerly she scrawled a quick note:

Prince Damien,

I've reconsidered your offer. If you're still interested meet me at the opera tomorrow night and invite me to your private box when you're ready.

Madeline


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Damon was smiling to himself as he entered the private box he kept reserved at the Teatro dell'Opera. They had all been taken prior to his arrival in Rome, but some hefty monetary persuasion had quickly remedied that. He'd always enjoyed the opera. The modern theatres and operas couldn't begin to compare with those of his time, but he still found pleasure in them none the less.

As a young man Damon had discovered the delights of a private box when it came to sharing the company of pretty young ladies. They were a lot less likely to shield themselves behind protests of virtue and modesty when there were no other eyes watching. As a vampire Damon's desire for a private box was for a similar purpose except he happened to pay more attention to the slender throat of his companion than had interested him as a mortal.

Tonight's performance was "La Boheme". The opera wasn't created until three hundred years after he was born and he probably would have appreciated it more when he was alive. While lacking in artistic skill, as a young man he'd embodied the care-free lifestyle without rules. Damon had paid no attention to the normal restrictions of noble life when he was alive.

Not that he was here for the show.

When the note from Meredith arrived at the apartment he rented in the city, Damon hadn't been surprised. He'd known that she would come to her senses; she was too practical to ignore such a golden opportunity. Acting as his personal consort was the only way she could feasibly last longer than five minutes in the lair of the Dark Veritas.

A place amongst the Dark Veritas, Damon thought to himself with satisfaction as he took a seat. At last. After three hundred years of wanting to gain admittance to the most prestigious vampire society his wait was nearly at an end.

Damon wanted to join the Dark Veritas ever since he'd discovered their existence. That had been around his two-hundredth year as a vampire. They'd essentially laughed in his face. He was just a child they'd proclaimed as though two centuries of immortality was a pittance.

Two hundred more years passed before Damon tried again. By then his "age" had no longer been his biggest detraction. Lack of a human companion was the reason they rejected him.

After that, angry and frustrated, Damon had convinced himself the Dark Veritas didn't deserve him as a member. It made him furious every time he'd thought about it because he was perfect for them. He shared their disdain for humans, their insatiable thirst for power, and appreciation for all the best things in their undead existence. Immortality ought to mean surrounding yourself with whatever you desired.

Lack of a human pet was the only thing that held him back from joining the crème de la crème of vampire society.

Damon could have picked anyone off the street as Meredith had pointed out, but that was risky. Even if he'd used mind powers on them, that didn't guarantee they could be trusted. In the underworld of the Dark Veritas pets were nearly always present, making them privy to nearly all of their Master's secrets. Without the proper incentive, aside from pleasure and telepathic suggestion, they might easily slip up and reveal something best left unspoken.

Damon needed someone who didn't require a lot of persuasion to be controlled. Someone who would die to keep his secrets because they had their own to preserve; someone he could exercise more than mind powers over.

As if in answer to all his wishes, along came the last person he'd expected might qualify as his play thing. Meredith Sulez had stepped back into his world, replete not only with secrets of her own, but an entire clandestine agenda.

The lights in the theatre dimmed suddenly, distracting Damon from his thoughts. Quiet fell over the audience as they waited for the opera to begin. He could still hear their breathing and heartbeats—the heightened senses of a vampire were sometimes nuisance—but he was able to tune them out. The golden curtain was raised and the first players, already on stage, began to introduce the story.

Damon waited a half hour into the performance before he summoned Meredith. He wanted to make her sweat a little, waiting and wondering if he'd decided to come. If they were going to enter into this arrangement she would need to learn some humility.

It didn't take long for the usher to locate her. Damon knew that she would be sitting in the box the Bradfords kept reserved for when they attended the opera. They'd adopted Meredith's alter ego as their latest protégé; they were fond of taking young girls under their wing to introduce them into society. Only so they could look good to everyone, of course.

Upon entering the compartment, Meredith glanced over her shoulder at the departing usher with a look of blatant longing. The red velvet curtain that covered the entrance swished closed, forcing her to turn and face Damon. He had to admire her composure. Meredith stood with her shoulders back, her chin held high, and her expression calmly composed.

Meredith was striking in a sleeveless black satin dress that showed off her slender figure and shapely legs to great advantage. Having an afterlife had afforded Damon the opportunity to become familiar with a countless amount of beautiful women. For some of them it took work to maintain their looks, but Meredith was a natural beauty. The only make-up Meredith wore was a touch of cherry-hued lip gloss. Her complexion was flawless and her eyes, those of Spanish dancer, were captivating all on their own.

"Hello, Meredith," Damon said. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," Meredith replied absently. She took a seat in the chair beside Damon's, but kept her gaze averted from his initially. Staring straight ahead at the stage without really seeing it, Meredith took a moment to steel her nerves. She could feel Damon's midnight black eyes boring into her, unnerving in their intensity.

Just as the silence in the small compartment was on the verge of becoming awkward, Meredith forced herself to turn towards Damon. It took will power to force herself to look into those beautiful, unfathomably deep orbs, but she managed.

"First of all," Meredith began coolly, "if you're expecting an apology I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. I've thought about it and what I said at the time was true to how I felt so I don't regret any of it."

"Neither do I." Damon's lips, ordinarily set with cruel arrogance, curved into a sensual smile. "You're quite breath-taking when you're angry. I especially enjoyed the way your eyes glittered and the beguiling manner in which your chest—"

"Enough!" Meredith held up a hand to stop him, immensely grateful she wasn't prone to blushing. "You can save the Casanova act for someone who can stomach it. This whole thing is going to be difficult enough without having to fight nausea at every turn."

"I'm going to take that to mean you've taken a renewed interest in my proposal?"

"Tragically, yes," Meredith said. "Whether I like it or not—which I don't just for the record—it looks like you were right. Congratulations. You'll have to forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm over you being the only thing standing between me and death."

Reaching into her purse, a silver clutch, Meredith took something out and handed it to Damon. "I brought this to prove I'm committed…It's also a sort of personal collateral to keep me from running screaming for the hills." It was meant as a joke, but it lacked any sort of ironic inflection. Nor could Meredith bring herself to smile. "You might recognize it if you're as familiar with the Dark Veritas as you say."

Damon recognized it immediately. There was no mistaking the raven turned in profile, silhouetted against a bare sliver of a moon. While there weren't a lot of vampire societies, there were enough that rings or trinkets of some sort were necessary to distinguish the members of one society from another. It was surreal that the ring he'd coveted for hundreds of years had just been handed to him by a human girl.

"Ah, this must have belonged to your grandfather." Damon took a moment to admire the way the lone garnet eye sparkled even in the dim lights of the theatre. "What a fascinating family history you have. You should be proud. Granddaughter of the only mortal invited to be a member of the Dark Veritas."

"Oh yes, how my heart bursts with pride," Meredith said wryly. "My joy over having to clean up his mess can hardly be contained."

"So you really think you can pull this off then?" Damon leaned towards her, looking her over with an expression of keen interest. "One human girl pitted against an entire society of vampires," he mocked, "several of whom are Old Ones. You're either very brave or incredibly stupid."

Silver daggers of lightning flashed in Meredith's eyes. "I didn't ask for your opinion. All I require from you is your assistance to get into the Dark Veritas. Anything beyond that is my problem."

"And you do fully comprehend what it's going to take in order for us to be able to 'assist' each other?" There was no mistaking the significance of the look Damon gave her. Only he could imply something salacious with a single arch of an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I get it," Meredith said without enthusiasm. "Eternal devotion, adoration, you are my world…I've seen Bonnie obsess over enough guys. I know exactly what it looks like. Just tell me where we begin."

"We can start tonight. There's a private party being held after the opera. Many of society's elite should be there so it will be the perfect opportunity to introduce you as my companion."

"What does another lame party have to do with the Dark Veritas?"

"If you're going to question everything I tell you this endeavor is going to take a lot longer," Damon said.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "I don't have to be your obedient slave until we're amongst the Dark Veritas. Until then I'm afraid you'll just have to humor me."

"Despite their formidable disdain for humans, the Dark Veritas keep a close eye on their current events—especially in Rome since it's the site of their headquarters. They often blend in with mortal society to scout for victims or more companions to add to their collection. Most Dark Veritas have only one companion, but it isn't uncommon for a vampire to have an entire harem of beauties."

"Why have only one when you can have a dozen?" Meredith quipped. "So we have to prove we're a couple in human society before the Dark Veritas will buy that I'm your companion?"

"Precisely. If we haven't been seen publicly then show up claiming you're my pet that would automatically raise suspicion."

"I'm your—did you just say _pet_?" The corners of Meredith's mouth twitched, certain he had to be joking.

Damon decided it was time for his future consort to become less attached to her fanciful modern notions of feminism and independence. Both were in non-existent supply where she was headed and he had no intentions of listening to her bemoan their loss throughout the duration of their arrangement.

"You might as well come accustomed to the vocabulary of the Dark Veritas," Damon said derisively. "I thought 'companion' was a kinder euphemism, but to them you are my pet. My play thing. An instrument for my amusement and pleasure. The sooner you accept that the better off we'll both be."

The vaguely amused look vanished from Meredith's face. "Wow, thank you so much for that reminder. I needed that. I was having so much fun that for a second there I completely lost my head and thought we were planning a trip to Euro Disney."

Anger honed Meredith's sarcastic wit until every word was a finely sharpened weapon, Damon noted to himself with a twinge of respect. It also served to chase away any lingering traces of fear from her countenance. This was good. Having a way to distract her could be beneficial, especially when they were in the midst of the Dark Veritas.

Not that her wit was what had initially made Damon think of pursuing Meredith as his pet. There was her situation, of course; having blackmail to use against her was to his advantage. Personal vanity, however, was what had officially sealed the deal for Damon.

To gain admittance into the Dark Veritas, Damon knew that he would have to dazzle everyone not only with his own personal charisma, but also with the beauty of the creature on his arm. Elena would have been more ideal, he'd admitted to himself; fair hair and eyes the shade of lapis lazuli would have created the perfect complement to his darker features. As far as second-runners up went, though, he could have done a lot worse than Meredith Sulez.

A lot worse indeed, Damon mused to himself, drinking in the visage of his companion. With her flawless olive complexion, long silky hair, and eyes that rivaled the depth and richness of mulberry wine, Meredith looked like a model. Her height and composure only served to add to the impression.

While her coloring more closely resembled his own, there were enough differences that Damon was certain they would appear quite striking alongside each other. Where he was pale, she was honeyed bronze. Where he more closely blended in with the Romans, his native countrymen, Meredith stood out because of her exotic good looks.

"What are we still doing waiting around here for?" Meredith was still focused on her tirade, oblivious to Damon's approbation. "Let's go set feminism back a few thousand years!"

And then there was that mouth. Damon smiled to himself, recalling the other reason he'd decided Meredith was exactly what he required. With all the animosity she felt towards him, she would guarantee that he wouldn't grow bored with their charade. He could always fake interest for the benefit of the Dark Veritas, but where was the fun in that?

Damon preferred a challenge and Meredith guaranteed him one. If her kisses contained half as much fire as her barbs this would be a worthwhile uphill battle.

Loud applause saved Damon from having to make any sort of reply to Meredith's indignant diatribe. Glancing over the edge of the balcony he saw that the audience was on their feet while on stage the performers were taking their bows. It must have been a good show, Damon thought to himself, but now it's time for the real entertainment to begin.

It was time to see if Damon had made the right decision after all. He'd partially lied to Meredith about why they were going to the after party together. They would need to establish themselves publicly as a couple, that much was true, but tonight was also a test.

Damon wasn't a fool. Just because Meredith _said_ she could convincingly play the part of his consort didn't mean he believed her. He needed proof. If she was able to convince everyone at the party that they were lovers, he would consider carrying on with the plan they'd agreed on. If not, they would part ways, never to see one another again.

For obvious reasons he'd neglected to make Meredith aware of his full plan.

"Ready?" Damon asked, extending a hand to Meredith.

Much to her credit, Meredith didn't hesitate in taking it. "As I'll ever be," she murmured under her breath.


End file.
